Harry the Hufflepuff
by Megark
Summary: There is a single point of divergence from this and canon. See if you can find it. "This is your Epic Fan Fiction. After you have been bathed in its Glory, you will be Changed and Perfected." -My Beta, after 4 hours of talking about this story.
1. Chapter 1: Birthday Party!

**Chapter 1**

"Do you think it – wise – to trust _Hagrid_ with something so import-?"

There was a loud roar that quite rudely interrupted Minerva McGonagall and, quite possibly, woke half the people sleeping in Little Whinging. Albus Dumbledore had his wand out and approximately thirty to fifty spells pushing themselves out of his lips in response to this as-yet unseen threat when he realized that it was simply a large, flying motorcycle. The roar of the motorcycle did not diminish, and indeed seemed to build more than the Doppler Effect would suggest, but no lights came on in the houses around. _So that's where Sirius' bike is._ _Good._ Dumbledore thought to himself as he put his wand away. _One less loose end. _The flying motorcycle _thumped_ as it landed, but that was nothing to the _crunch_ made by the massive man's boots assaulting the asphalt as he got off the bike.

"Hagrid! At last!" Dumbledore allowed enthusiasm to suffuse his voice. "And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid's voice rumbled, "Young Sirius Black lent it to me." His voice lowered to a kind of reverence. "I got him, sir."

"Fantastic." Dumbledore gave a smile as he looked at the lumbering brute. "Was he any trouble?"

Hagrid looked lovingly at the small bundle in his arms. "No trouble at all, sir. Fell asleep just as we was flying over Bristol." Hagrid neglected to mention that the baby had actually fallen to the ground just as they were flying over Bristol, but the baby had been fine, happier even, and so Hagrid had concluded that all was well. The large man surreptitiously brushed a little of the dried blood off of the baby's face as he handed the bundle to Dumbledore.

Albus, not for the first time, was more than a little irritated that the oaf's half-giant nature prevented him from looking into the man's mind. He was obviously lying. With a muffled sigh, Albus took the bundle and rested a small letter in the folds of the blanket. He walked up to the door where lived the muggles that Harry would live with for the next ten years. The muggles that had been vetted by Minerva as the perfect sort of people that Dumbledore wanted Harry to grow with.

Dumbledore placed the bundle in a basket that he pulled out of his robes. After enchanting the basket with a silent Permanent Warming Charm, Dumbledore placed the whole kit and caboodle on the top step. He crouched and rubbed a thumb on the baby's forehead, overcome with a sense of Destiny. "You carry the fate of us all, little one." His words came from his role, but they carried significance that none present would understand.

The Leader of the Light stood and turned towards his most faithful lieutenants. "Now!" He said in as cheery a voice as he could get away with, "Back to Hogwarts! Back to the first year of a new era!"

* * *

Harry Potter woke to the now-familiar sounds of his Aunt Petunia banging against his bedroom door.

"Get up! It's time to cook Daisy's breakfast!" came her voice through the door.

Harry grumbled to himself as he pulled his glasses on and looked at the way too early time on his alarm clock. Though why he needed one was beyond him when Petunia woke him up regardless was beyond him. He opened the door and glanced at his aunt with a baleful stare.

"Hey," she said with a smirk, "This is what happens when you help your mates break into the school kitchens." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Now hurry! Go!"

Harry kept his little grin to himself as he quickly descended the stairs to the kitchen. Just because the punishment was totally fair didn't mean he would smile at his aunt for the next hour. He had the butter sizzling and the bacon frying as his cousin Daisy came tiptoeing into the kitchen. She did this every time she thought he wouldn't be able to hear her. What she didn't know was that the linoleum always _crrrked_ when anyone walked on it.

Harry waited until she was standing in the middle of the kitchen before casually saying, "Happy birthday or whatever."

"Ugh, can't you give me a break for _one day_ from your freaky ears?" Daisy Dursely huffed in frustration.

Harry deftly flipped the bacon in the pan. "No. Can't be letting you get spoiled now, can I?" He glanced over at his cousin and smiled.

Daisy grinned. "Oh shut up." She walked to the other side of him and leaned against the counter. "The zoo should be super fun, huh?"

"Yeah!" Harry nodded. "Love all them animals, you know. Can't help but hug some of them sometimes."

Harry had been deeply touched when Daisy had chosen him as the friend she brought to the zoo. Granted, his aunt and uncle would have brought him regardless, but he thought it very sweet that she had asked for only him. Besides, Daisy's best friend Priscilla Polkiss always ended up quietly complaining that she never got as many presents as Daisy, making Daisy feel bad.

Harry and Daisy bantered a bit more until the bacon and eggs were ready and dished up onto the kitchen table.

"Uncle Vernon! Aunt Petunia!" Harry called, "It's ready!"

Harry's Uncle Vernon walked into the dining room, dressed as he was wont, in a well-fitted white button down and dark brown slacks that toed the line of "too-tight" with all the grace of a master ballerina. His cheeks were just-shaved smooth and his mouth was already curled into the smile that he reserved for birthdays and report cards.

"There's my birthday girl!" he said, grinning, "And there's the beautiful breakfast made by my favorite nephew."

Petunia came in shortly after, carrying the stack of presents they all had bought for Daisy. As soon as her mother placed them on the table, she started counting them.

"Ten?! Really?" Daisy sighed. "Seriously, don't get me so much next year."

Amid her parents' protestations, Harry ruminated that Priscilla didn't even need to be present to make Daisy guilty.

Daisy was one of those girls that never said what she wanted and so Harry had become gifted in the area of guessing gifts. Her squeals of delight at the blouse he got her, it conveniently came with a detachable collar, made him smile.

After breakfast was finished, Uncle Vernon having received an earful from Harry about not eating enough, the whole family piled into Vernon's company car and drove to the zoo.

* * *

"Race you to the Snake Pit!" called Daisy as she took off towards the Reptile House.

"Cheater!" returned Harry and he ran off after her to the bemusement of their guardians.

The two cousins quickly found the largest snake in the whole house, but found that it was being ogled by possibly the fattest boy either of them had ever seen. The child was petulantly tapping on the glass, utterly ignoring the "No Tapping" sign, and calling for his father to awaken the "boring, stupid thing."

The boy lost interest before too long and waddled off to look at something else. Harry and Daisy crouched down next to the railing to get a better look at the large boa constrictor. The snake blinked its eyes rapidly and raised its head to look at Harry. Harry frowned at the look the snake was giving him. It looked almost like it wanted him to speak.

Harry nodded at the retreating fat boy. "Bit annoying, isn't he?" Had he looked to his right, he would have seen Daisy's face freeze in shock.

The snake jerked its head downward in what was, unmistakably, a nod.

"You get a lot of them, like that one?" asked Harry, trying to empathize.

The snake nodded again.

Harry glanced at the identifying plaque for conversation inspiration. "Oh, you're Brazilian? Is it nice there?"

The snake tilted its head and tapped the plaque with its tail, indicating something on the bottom.

Harry read aloud, "'Bred in Captivity.' Oh, so you've never been there?" If he had looked at Daisy now, her face was the picture of amazed excitement.

The snake nodded again and its eyes took a wistful expression.

"I wish there was something I could do to hel-" Harry was cut off by the enormously overweight boy running back over, screaming to his father.

Daisy had the good sense to dive out of the way, but Harry was bowled over by the boulder of a boy. Harry reached out a hand to catch himself against the glass, but after a second of touching it, the glass disappeared. The boy let out a scream worthy of a two year old and fell head first into the small pond in the enclosure. The snake wasted no time.

"Off to Brasssil," Harry, for the first time, heard both the hiss and the words, "Thanksss, amigo!" The snake trailed its way out of the Reptile House, ignoring the screams and cries of the passersby.

Harry felt Daisy's hand on his shoulder and he turned to face his cousin.

"You can talk to _snakes_?!"

* * *

"I mean, we _knew_ you were weird, but that's _crazy_!" Daisy was saying as they were getting in the car. This was, in fact, the sixth time she had said it.

The debacle at the Reptile House had taken far longer to resolve than it should have, mostly because the insane father of that fat child had railed against the Dursleys, _insisting_ that Harry be "shoved under the stairs" at the "first opportunity" or some rubbish. The Dursleys had been appalled that anyone could suggest that about an eleven year old and Vernon had privately decided to talk to his friends at Social Services about _that_ particular family.

"Teleporting behind the school kitchens was _cool_, but when you couldn't do it again, it was kind of whatever," she said, the excitement making her babble.

"Right, but this is _different_ because I did it _reliably_ and you _saw_ it for _yourself_." Harry forestalled the subsequent illuminating points.

Daisy's face fell. "Yeah. That."

Harry grinned at her. "It is pretty weird, huh?"

Meanwhile, in the front of the car, the adult Dursleys were having a very different sort of conversation. It was the sort you can only have after years and_ years_ of marriage. It was, in fact, the telepathic sort.

_Petunia, dear, we'll have to tell him soon._

_Oh Vernon, we still have a month or so before he's supposed to get the letter._

_ Right. The magic letter that a magical owl will leave on our doorstep, telling us that a magical school will teach our nephew magic._

_ Exactly. That one._

_ Right. Well, my lovely wife, you can be sure that I'll be having a conversation with him _before_ that business happens._

_ Ok, Vernon. Whatever you feel you need to do._

* * *

Harry was lounging in his bedroom, having finished his chores before his cousin; he had little to do this lazy Sunday afternoon. He was reading a wonderful story about a wonderfully quaint race of people who kept getting their lives bollixed up by Wizards. He could almost hear the flutes playing in his head when his uncle rapped on his door.

"Yeah, Uncle Vernon?" Harry called.

"Listen, you good for a chat?" his uncle's voice sounded anxious. _That_ couldn't be good.

"Yeah, all right," Harry replied, not a little confused.

The door opened and his uncle walked in. Vernon had changed out of his work clothes and was wearing a well-fitted tee-shirt that said "College" on it, along with navy blue sweatpants. He walked into Harry's room and sat on the edge of the bed. "Listen, Harry. I've been meaning to talk about this with you for some time." He took a deep breath. "There's...something... that you need to learn about."

Harry tilted his head. "Won't I learn it in school?"

Vernon scratched his head. "It's not that sort of thing, my boy." He took a deep breath. "It's not knowledge, per se. It's more," he searched for the right word, "Personal."

Harry frowned. "Well, what is it?"

"I'm not rightly sure how to say it, honestly." Vernon shook his head. "Look, I think you've noticed some...changes... recently. Some things that Daisy hasn't experienced."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I have actually."

Vernon looked relieved. "Fantastic. I'm not really sure how you could have missed them." He rubbed his hands together. "What have you noticed?"

Now it was Harry's turn to feel not a little awkward. "We-well, what am I _supposed_ to be feeling?"

Vernon rolled his eyes. "I hear it's different for everyone, son. Just tell me."

"Well," Harry began before switching to a whisper, "I noticed a hair...where I haven't had one before..." He bounced his eyebrows significantly.

Vernon frowned. "Well that's new. I was told you'd be inflating elderly women, turning peoples' hair different colors, that sort of thing."

"OH." Harry said, turning redder than Petunia's prized tomatoes, "You meant the magic."

Vernon finally caught on. "OH. Yes, hair is normal and fine and good yes."

They both took some deep breaths and emphatically avoided eye contact for five solid minutes. Vernon was the braver of the two and broke the silence. "I'm not entirely sure how to tell you this, but...well..." He took a final deep breath and looked Harry in the eyes. "You're a wizard, Harry."


	2. Chapter 2: Driargawrn Allee

**AN: So! How many of you figured out the premise? Seriously though, this is going to be a long one, like all 7 years long, and even beyond. The plan right now is to post at least one chapter a week, more if I finish them. Reviews and PMs will help with that! Feel free to PM/review with ideas about anything. Also, how many of you clicked the story because of my Beta's quote? XD**

* * *

"Look, I'm just saying that France has a lot to offer, especially if we went for a long time," Petunia was saying, "There are beaches, shopping, food, all that!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, all that stuff that _you_ like. _Daisy_ and I want to go to-"

Just then, Vernon, who happened to be looking out the window, tilted his head in confusion. The family followed his gaze and found themselves looking at a large, tawny owl casually preening itself on the dining room window sill. It looked up and seemed to be taken aback that it was the center of so much attention. It gave a defensive hoot and tapped its beak against the glass.

Comprehension dawned on all of the Dursleys simultaneously and the three non-wizards all looked to Harry to receive his destiny. Harry rose and slowly walked over to the window, aware that he was in the grip of Serious Events. He reverently opened the window and the owl flew in, landing on the table. It looked around and cautiously took a bit of bacon from the rasher in the middle of the table. Harry moved around back to his seat and glanced at Uncle Vernon. His uncle shrugged.

"Oh!" piped up Daisy, "There!" She pointed to the small scroll of paper tied to the owl's leg.

The owl hooted in surprise and dropped its bit of bacon before looking at Daisy reproachfully.

Harry reached across the table and quickly untied the small ribbon. As soon as it was free, the small scroll gave a little snuffle and then sneezed quite spectacularly. All of the Dursleys blinked in surprise, Petunia shielding her eyes, and when they looked again, the little scroll had turned itself into a little letter, resting demurely in Harry's hands.

_Mr. H. Potter,_

_ Second Bedroom_

_ 4 Privet Drive_

_ Little Whinging, Surrey._

Harry was looking at the letter with a mix of confusion and apprehension. He shook it a little to see if it would sneeze again. When it didn't, he looked to his uncle and slowly lifted his eyebrows. Uncle Vernon began nodding but stopped. "Just a sec," he said. He got up and walked over to Harry's chair and crouched next to the boy.

"Harry," he said, looking straight into his nephew's eyes, "You have to know that Petunia and I are proud of you no matter what you do. If you go to Hogwarts, if you go to Stonewall. If you become a wizard, if you become an accountant." He swallowed. "We're for you no matter what you do. Well," he thought for a second, "Maybe an accountant isn't the _best_ example, but," he recovered, "It doesn't matter to us what you do or where you go." Vernon had to cough a bit and clear his throat. "We love you, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly found that he simply couldn't. With misty eyes, he nodded to his Uncle and looked over to his Aunt, but especially his cousin. Daisy was looking at him wistfully, and Harry raised an eyebrow. Daisy smiled sadly and Harry started to put the letter down. Magic was probably fantastic, but his family was more important than anything. But, to his surprise, Daisy gave a slight shake of her head.

"Harry, you have to go." Her voice was quiet, but sure. "Go and show 'em what for."

Harry grinned and nodded. He held up the letter and ripped it open.

* * *

If all wizards were as interesting as Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts, Harry knew he would never want for anything. Hagrid had seemed a bit...aggressive when he'd arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive, armed dreadfully with a pink umbrella and a no-nonsense attitude; Harry's uncle had successfully thrown him off with possibly _the_ most polite offering of tea Harry had ever seen. The conversation had been brief and amiable and, before Harry knew it, he was being whisked off to some place called Dragon Alley. He thought the name made sense, given that wizards seemed mostly in the business of disrupting peoples' every day business with wild adventures. The best part of it all, though, was Hagrid allowing Daisy to go with them.

"Now, see, I oughtn't to bring her," Hagrid said, awkwardly scratching the fifth layer of his beard, "So she'll have to be right good behaved."

Daisy had immediately agreed and had _flown_ up to her room to change into something better. Hagrid, in the meantime, turned her vacated chair into a turtle to the delight of all in the room. When Daisy came back down, her chair was methodically eating a bit of the carpet, to the tumultuous laughter of Harry and Vernon. Petunia was feigning a smile, secretly aghast.

With the chair returned to its proper form, the three set off in pursuit of Driagon Alley. Hagrid was completely reliant on the cousins when navigating the massive London Underground. He quickly became irritated with the "muggle money," claiming it was "too small" and "too flimsy" for him. The third transfer had a few seats and the travelers gratefully took them. Harry thought he saw Hagrid furtively look around and tap his seat with his pink umbrella before sitting down. Regardless, the seat accommodated Hagrid and the three rode in relative comfort to their final stop.

"All right, you two, this way, that's right, up we go," Hagrid's booming voice split the people in their way down the middle.

"So, where to now?" asked Daisy as the three emerged into the dreary, overcast London-scape.

"Now!" said Hagrid triumphantly, "We go to the Leaky Cauldron!" His chest swelled with pride. "A right famous place, that is!"

Daisy wrinkled her nose. "It sounds rather gross, honestly. Who would want a _leaky_ cauldron?"

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't sound worse than the pubs Uncle talks about. I mean, the Sweaty Sock? Really?"

Hagrid frowned. "Now, that doesn't make sense. Why would anyone want to drink there?"

"Anyway!" Daisy cut in, "Can we get going please?"

The Leaky Cauldron ended up being only a few minutes' walk away from the Underground and soon, Harry and Hagrid were looking at the entrance to a rather seedy, and not a little decrepit, pub with "The Leaky Cauldron" on a rickety sign over the entrance. Daisy was staring at the shared wall of a record store and a book story.

"Right!" said Hagrid, "Here we go!"

"Wait," said Daisy, putting a hand out, "Where is it?"

Harry glanced at his cousin. "It's right there, silly! Right in front of us."

Daisy frowned. "No it's not. Seriously, there's just the one shop and then the other-"

"Erhm, follow me," Hagrid cut in, "And please, Miss Dursely, don't say things like that." He gestured at the pub. "Muggles can't see it."

Daisy nodded, suddenly conspiratorial, "Right, so I have to _pretend_ to see it."

Hagrid nodded, although his conspiratorial whisper was around the same volume as Petunia's wake up yells, "Yes. Now you've got it!"

Harry, meanwhile, had walked up to the door and placed his hand on the doorknob. He had a sudden attack of realization and froze. His parents had used this door. They had come through this pub on their way to buy school supplies, just like he was doing. They had actually touched this doorknob.

"Harry?" Daisy's quiet voice cut into his thoughts. "Are you ok?"

Harry started and looked over at his cousin. "Yeah. Yeah!" He took a breath. "It's just that my parents used this door. It's..."

"Yeah, that it is!" said Hagrid, walking up and clapping Harry on the shoulder with almost enough force to buckle the boy's knees. "Let's go!"

Harry grinned up at the large man and down at his cousin. "Yeah, let's."

* * *

Harry was pulled away from his last fan and into the alleyway behind the pub. Daisy was in a sort of shock from all of the magic she had seen. Hagrid's face was screwed up in concentration as he looked at the wall in front of them.

"Hrmm, frst blrgh frd," Hagrid mumbled as he counted bricks. He rapped a specific brick and the wall, slowly at first, began to melt away. The sight that greeted them took Harry's breath away. It did rather more to Daisy.

"Welp, we're off to Gringotts first," Hagrid said over the fainted body of Daisy Dursley, "That's where your money'll be."

Harry pulled out the card that Uncle Vernon had given him. "Oh, I've got money."

Hagrid chuckled, his voice vibrating through Daisy enough to wake her up, "Oh Harry, you've got a _lot_ more than that!"

"Um, Mister Hagrid, sir, can you please put me down?" came Daisy's mouse of a voice from Hagrid's massive embrace.

The Bank of Gringotts did not disappoint the eye. Harry didn't think he had ever seen so many columns nor a building that was so obviously worthy of all of them. The walls were the whitest they could be without being blinding and the most distinguished they could be without being just old. The grandeur was not lost on Daisy, either. Harry could hear the gasp that escaped her lips in wonder.

Hagrid led the trio up to the massive building and made sure to point out words seemingly scratched into the very panes of crystal that served as doors.

_ Enter stranger, but take heed_

_ of what awaits the sin of greed_

_ for those who take but do not earn_

_ will pay most dearly in their turn. _

_ So if you seek beneath our floors_

_ a treasure that was never yours,_

_ thief you have been warned, beware_

_ of finding more than treasure there._

"See there, Harry," he muttered under his breath, "Remember that you should never try and rob this place."

Harry looked at Hagrid in horror, "Who would _ever_ rob this place?"

Hagrid looked at Harry with a dark look, "_Dark_ wizards, Harry. Only the Darkest of the Dark would _dare_ try to rob Gringotts." He straightened and gestured through the doors. "I reckon only Hogwarts is safer than this here place."

* * *

After a short conversation with a rather terse goblin, Harry and Daisy were suddenly being whisked away on what was simultaneously the most terrifying and most exhilarating ride of either of their lives. Sure, they had been on roller coasters before, but those were _tame_ compared to this monstrosity. Hagrid had begged off coming with them, claiming that he had another thing to do in the bank and that the two of them together _should_ be safe.

The ride was both way too long and far too short, and the two cousins got out of the cart with shaky legs and giggling mouths. Their goblin guide, Griphook, smiled rather menacingly and gestured to a rather large door etched into the rock of the bank. Harry and Daisy walked up to it and peered at it more closely. The door seemed to be made of ordinary metal, but Harry's experiences with the Wizarding World up till now had told him that it was anything but.

"Griphook," Harry said, glancing at the small humanoid, "What happens if I touch this?"

"You get sucked in," said the goblin in a rote, monotone way.

Daisy tilted her head. "What happens then?"

Griphook frowned. "You die from loss of air. Obviously."

Harry and Daisy shot back from the door like an electric shock. "Phew," Harry said, with a weak smile, "That was close."

Daisy chuckled, but there was no life in it. "No kidding. You sure you want to move into this world?"

Griphook stepped forward and scratched a curious design onto the metal. The door began to shimmer with arcane symbols in glowing white. These symbols grew in size and intensity until the cousins could barely keep staring at them. Suddenly, the door splashed to the floor as if it were only so much water, but when it landed, it vanished.

"Yeah," Harry breathed, "I'm sure."

* * *

"All I'm saying is that I'm never paying for you ever again," Daisy said as they left Gringotts, Harry's little coin-purse full to bursting with all sorts of weird coins.

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Where d'you suppose Hagrid is?"

Daisy shrugged. "Should we ask someone?"

Harry nodded. "Wouldn't want to get lost in all this lot." He gestured to the general mayhem that pervaded Diargawn Alley.

Daisy nodded profusely. "Where should we look?"

Harry squinted down one lane of the avenue, then the other. "He shouldn't be _too_ hard to see, right?"

"Who's not hard to see?" came the unmistakable sound rumble of rock tumbling over rock that Harry knew was Hagrid.

"You," grinned Harry as he turned around.

Hagrid looked a bit green and more than a little unsteady on his feet as he negotiated his way down the Gringotts steps. "What say we do this efficient-like, eh, Harry? Only my system ain't what it used to be."

Harry chuckled as he thought of the twisting and diving rails, then grimaced when he thought of the _extra_ swerving the extra-large Hagrid would have done. "All right. What's your plan?"

Hagrid took a deep breath and put a hand on his stomach to settle it. "Well, you have to be the one to get your wand, so what say you go to Ollivander's and Daisy and I'll get the rest of your things."

Harry, though a little put-out at not being able to see everything, agreed. "All right. See you later, Daisy."

"Aww, but I _want_ to come with you! The wand's the coolest part!" Daisy said, pouting just a little.

Harry smiled at her, "I'll show you after. It'll be fine."

Daisy rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Let's go, Mr. Hagrid." She put her arm through his and pointedly turned her back on Harry.

"Oh, er," Hagrid said grunting a little, "See, Harry, you'll be going that way." He pointed a ways down the alley, back the way they had come. "Hard to miss, Ollivander's."

"Come _on_, Mister Hagrid!" Daisy was pulling him away.

Harry chuckled at Hagrid's plight and waved at the two. He turned and walked down the street towards Ollivander's.

* * *

Hagrid was right: Ollivander's _was_ hard to miss. There wasn't too much that distinguished it from the stores on its right and left, but it seemed to be _there_ a lot more than the others. Harry idly wondered if there was some spell that made something more solid the longer it existed. When he glanced from the music store (Lutes and Lollygagging!) on its right to the novelty shop (Muggle Madnesses!) on its left, Ollivander's was _stronger_ somehow. With a steadying breath, Harry strode forward purposefully into the wandmaker's shop.

If Harry had thought the outside was enigmatic, that was _nothing_ to the inside. There wasn't much to look at until Harry realized that each little cubby hole on the wall was actually three cubby holes. When he realized that, he began noticing that each of the three was _actually_ three more. At some point, Harry realized that he was standing in front of the wall, his nose pressing up against the wood almost painfully, as he stared further and further in, trying to see the ending of the little cubby holes.

"Ah...Mister Potter," came a misty, ethereal voice that cut through Harry's focus like Aunt Petunia's voice through his sleep. "I was...wondering...when you'd stop by."

Harry barked his nose on the wood and stumbled back, kicking his own foot in the process. This overturned him completely and he wound up on his back, coughing at the dust he dislodged.

"Ah..." Ollivander seemed at a loss for words. "Are you...perhaps...all right?"

Harry stood up and brushed the dust off of his shirt. "Yeah, I s'pose." He looked at Ollivander and summarily decided that the man had to be _at least_ two hundred years old. "So, how about a wand?"

Ollivander smiled ominously. "Oh...of course, Mister Potter." He snapped his fingers and anywhere from 5 to 16 tape measures sprang to life and began measuring all of Harry Potter. "Do you know anything about...wands, Mister Potter?" Ollivander asked while slowly walking around his shop.

"No, not really, sir," Harry said, doing his best to ignore the increasingly annoying tape measures.

"Ah...I thought not." Ollivander picked up two boxes and walked back over to where Harry was standing. Although, not much of him was yet visible: the tape measures had him looking more like a math mummy than anything else. Ollivander suppressed a chuckle and snapped again. The tape measures rolled themselves up and put themselves away.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, well...here." Ollivander handed Harry one of the boxes. "Try...this."

Harry took the wand out of the box.

"Wave it...Mister Potter," said Ollivander.

Harry, feeling exceptionally silly, gave the wand a wave. There was a feeble trailing of sparks.

Ollivander snatched the wand away and thrust the other into Harry's hand. "No...this one!"

Harry again waved the wand and, again, produced lackluster results. His failure, however, only seemed to add fuel to Ollivander's fire. As the failed wands stacked around higher and higher around Harry, the years seemed to flow off of Ollivander like water. Soon, the old man was literally _skipping_ around the room humming to himself. Harry tried to be happy for the wandmaker, but it was just a little too creepy for the happiness to be genuine.

After _hours_ of wand-waving, Ollivander stopped in front of one of the last three boxes. "It...couldn't be," he said to himself, though it was clearly audible to Harry, "Yet...why couldn't it be?"

He walked back over to where Harry was standing, dwarfed by the stacks of discarded wands and boxes. "You see, Mister...Potter," he said in barely above a whisper, "I get...excited about difficult cases such as yours because," his eyes flashed, "It means your magic is more...nuanced."

Harry tilted his head. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Certain wands are...predisposed to certain types of magic, Mister Potter," Ollivander explained, as he picked up a wand from the ground, "This is nine inches, made of cherry wood, and cored by dragon heartstrings. It is predisposed towards...the more violent curses." Ollivander aimed the wand at an empty box. "_Diffindo_!" A jet of whitish light shot out of the wand and cut straight through the box, leaving a small hole in the stone beneath.

"Oh!" said Harry, because saying nothing and staring with a gaping mouth was something he was doing _far_ too often lately, "Can you give me a wand that's good at, um," he thought for a second, "Cool stuff?" he finished lamely, lamenting his lack of knowledge.

Ollivander chuckled, a dustier sound than dust itself. "Certainly...not, Mister Potter." He grew serious. "The wand chooses the wizard, after all."

Harry tried to wrap his mind around that while Ollivander pulled a wand out of a box, to no avail. Wands didn't have minds, how could they? It was probably some old wizard adage, like about them not being late. Besides, if there was anyone who was both not subtle _and_ slow to anger, it was Hagrid.

Ollivander handed Harry the wand. As Harry's fingers curled around the thin, wooden cylinder, he suddenly _understood_ what Ollivander had meant. From the moment he touched the wand, he felt it accept him. It had perceived him, somehow, and had agreed to be _his_ wand, and no one else's. And Harry simultaneously accepted the wand, as well. He would be _its_ wizard, whatever that meant.

Feeling exceptionally confident and proud, Harry gave the wand a wave and a flourish. The fireworks it produced were bright enough to make little white dots appear in front of Harry's eyes after they disappeared.

Meanwhile, Ollivander was looking at Harry curiously. "Fascinating...simply _fascinating,_" the old man was muttering, "That _that _wand would choose you."

"Why?" asked Harry.

Ollivander straightened, "I think we can expect...great things from you, Mister Potter." He moved forward and rested a finger on Harry's wand. "For this wand's...brother did great things. Terrible...yes...but great!"

* * *

Harry was quiet during the trip back to Little Whinging. He listened with one ear to Daisy reviling a blond boy she'd met at the robe shop, to Hagrid complaining about muggle transportation, but his heart wasn't really in commiserating with them.

Ollivander's words had given Harry a level of Perspective he hadn't had before. He pulled out his wand and twirled it around his fingers. This stick, little more than an especially long twig, had flooded Harry with magical warmth, with acceptance, with...love? Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but somehow he _knew _his wand was important. It was the brother wand to Lord Voldemort's, the greatest Dark wizard in the past century. It contained a feather from a _phoenix_. And, most importantly, it had given Harry his first taste of intentional magic.

Suddenly, September the 1st couldn't come fast enough. Harry imagined himself using this instrument day in and day out, learning to master and control the love and warmth he felt inside of it. He imagined himself using the wand to help his friends, to dazzle his family. His heart began racing, his hand clenched around the wand, and, though he didn't see it, a fiercely excited smile curled his lips. Harry was _going_ to Hogwarts!

* * *

**AN: Phew! That was longer than I thought it was going to be. Hogwarts Express is next! I'm trying to get through this year rather quickly as the cool things I have in mind are sort of later on. I feel kind of bad for not doing the Hagridisms, and maybe I'll go back and add them in later, but they just break flow so hard. As usual, I love reviews (they keep me honest XD) and if you have questions, feel free to PM me. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: Hogwarts Bound!

**AN: So, FF has apparently been removing my careful formatting, specifically the denoting of time skips (kind of an issue) so I'll be trying different things to fix this. Some of the skips are obvious, but if they're not, ask me and stuff. When I figure out what works, I'll retroactively change the chapters that are up; be intrepid with me as we face this trial together! As a reply to ****Arabella Lee Smith's comment about Daisy's adventures in Diagorn Ahlley, know that I'll be writing little flavor vignettes in between years (1&amp;2, 2&amp;3, etc) to tide y'all over while I think of cool new plots. If there's something you wanna see, PM me!**

* * *

Harry and the Dursleys stood in the middle of Kings' Cross looking from Platform 9 to Platform 10 in confusion. The station was bustling around them, and they'd occasionally get jostled by a driven businessman, or an awestruck tourist, but nothing seemed to be in between 9 and 10. Harry looked at his ticket for probably the eighteenth time that day to verify the odd platform number. Sure enough, the 9 and ¾ was looking back at him, unhelpful in the extreme. Harry idly wondered if _any_thing in the Wizarding World made sense.

Uncle Vernon, dressed for the occasion in one of his more casual suits, was anxiously glancing around to see if anyone could offer them help. After a security guard politely, but firmly, told them that there _was no such thing_ and _not to disturb people_, Uncle Vernon became much more selective in his choices.

"Oh, there it is, ok, now, we all know what we're doing, yes?" came a rather distraught voice from behind the Dursley family, "Ok, Percy, you go first, then in order of age."

Harry, and the Dursleys turned around and beheld an abundance of red-heads with a large assortment of battered and beaten trunks trying to arrange themselves. When Harry saw that the oldest of them was carrying an owl cage, he knew that their worries were over.

"Excuse me," he said, walking up to the bewilderment of his family, "Are you lot wizards by any chance?"

The red-haired matriarch, and most of her brood, went silent. A furtive glance around made the woman feel safe enough to whisper, "Are you _mad_?! Just saying that out loud!" Another furtive glance. "Yes, we are." Her motherly nature seemed to win out over her outrage. "Are you looking to get onto the Platform, dear?"

Harry nodded. "Only, I don't know how."

The woman made an exasperated sound somewhere between a scoff and a snort. "Ruddy school! I swear they don't _want_ muggleborns to come sometimes." She gestured Harry closer, who in turn gestured his family over. "Well, I'm Molly Weasely, and this is my family. Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny." She tapped each of them on the head as she said their name.

"Right," said Harry, forgetting each of them completely, "Nice to-"

"No, I'm George!" said one of the twins, shoving his hand into Harry's.

"And I'm Fred!" said the other, taking Harry's other hand.

"Now now boys," said Percy, looking down benevolently from above, "Give the boy some room to breathe."

The two gave Harry's hands another vigorous shaking and let go, falling back behind their mother and older brother.

"Right," said Harry, "Well, this is my uncle, Vernon Dursley, his wife, my Aunt Petunia, and my cousin Daisy." He gestured to each one. "And I'm Harry Potter." He finished with a smile.

The Weaselys fell silent, except for a cough from Ron and and small squeak from Ginny.

"Pleased to meet you all!" broke in Vernon jovially, extending a hand.

The Weaselys stared, oblivious to Vernon.

"Right, right, Harry's famous, isn't he?" piped up Daisy, "Who was it he beat?" Petunia shushed her, but she soldiered on, "Well, he snores like the dickens so don't stare too much."

Mrs. Weasely caught herself with her mouth agape and shook herself. "Right, well, getting on the Platform's no problem at all. Just walk through the column."

Harry glanced back at the divider, mostly to avoid the _intensity_ of the stares. "But isn't it a wall? Solid?" He turned back in time to see Mrs. Weasely snapping her fingers in front of her children.

"Percy, why don't you go first?" When snapping was insufficient, she resorted to smacking Percy upside the head.

"What? Oh, right, mum." Percy shook himself and gripped the handle of his cart. He glanced at Harry. "Right, watch carefully now." He looked back at the pillar and gritted his teeth. "Show no fear." He began walking towards the divider, but his steady walk soon broke into a brisk trot. Before long, he was full-tilt running straight into the stone wall.

There was squeak from Daisy right as he hit the wall, but then he was just...gone. Straight through the brick and mortar. Swallowed by the stone.

Harry realized that he was gaping and snapped his mouth shut. He really _was_ doing that too much. His parents, and Daisy, were still staring slack-jawed at where Percy had disappeared.

"I saw a chair turn into a turtle," muttered Petunia, "And I thought _that_ was impressive."

Harry walked up and placed a hand on his parents' shoulders. "Will you come with me through it?"

Petunia and Vernon looked at Harry.

"What, son?" sputtered Vernon, "Surely, _we_ can't go through."

Harry grinned. "Can we try?"

"I'll bring your cart!" Daisy said, gripping the handles.

Harry slipped his hands into his aunt's and his uncle's. They walked slowly towards the wall, taking their time and, though they'd never admit it, hoping that there would be _some_thing that made wall look less solid before they got to it. It grew closer and closer and Harry was, again, filled with a sense of destiny. His parents had walked through this gateway, and now his family was walking through it with him. Well, except Daisy. Harry squeezed their hands reassuringly. He knew how hard this was, but he couldn't have possibly expressed how _right_ the moment felt, waking into the Wizarding World with his parents.

The trio had the completely _absurd_ feeling of walking through solid stone.

Then, they were on the other side. Behind Harry was the stone that led back to the mundanity of King's Cross. In front of Harry was the unlimited potential of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And on either side of him were his parents. The people who had raised him, who had given him the values and ideals he would have forever. The people who had, through their own generosity, taken him in and loved him.

"So, how does this bloody place _work_?" asked Uncle Vernon, his face having gone pale at the harrowing experience of moving through a solid object.

"Vernon!" exclaimed Aunt Petunia, "Language!"

Uncle Vernon rolled his eyes. "Oh come now, dear, if there was ever a time for a nice, old fashioned swear, this is it."

"Harry?" asked Daisy in a much more tentative voice than Harry was used to, "Come over here?"

"Yeah?" Harry turned, "What is it?"

Daisy reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, brown box. "Here." She put it in Harry's hands.

Harry frowned at it. "What's all this?"

Daisy looked away. "Well, Hagrid said that most students would have one and that you'd be made fun of. So I got you this."

Harry lifted the lid off of the box. There was immediately a bright light that made Harry close one eye. The light began swirling around and around in a vortex whose base was in the middle of Harry's hand. There were little yellow motes in the light, now, and soon the vortex was a soft, golden color. The swirling went faster and faster, and suddenly Harry was holding a large cage in his hand. He frowned in confusion.

"What's this for, Daisy?" He asked.

Daisy brought her arm from behind her back and sitting on it was a beautiful, white owl. "Her," Daisy said simply.

Harry was agape, "But how? When?"

Daisy shrugged. "When I was with Mr. Hagrid. He had the shopkeeper spell the box to open into the cage. And this beauty was came with it." She smiled, full of wonder at the magic.

Harry didn't _quite _understand it, but the owl was beautiful, as was the cage. Not to mention, the money had been with Harry while Daisy was buying this. That meant that either she or Hagrid had paid for it.

Daisy leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Bye bye, cousin," she said, grinning despite the tears in her eyes, "Knock 'em dead, ok?"

* * *

Harry, realizing that silent awe was _not _his favorite, had walked through the train until he found an empty compartment. He hefted his trunk onto the railings above the seats and sat down near the window to look for his family on the platform below. They weren't hard to spot at all, given that they were among the only ones not in wizard robes and hats, and they were standing with the brilliantly-haired Weaselys. Uncle Vernon was chatting animatedly with Mrs. Weasely, who looked more than a little punch-drunk. Daisy was talking with Ginny, _hah! remembered at least one of them!_,who seemed to be slowly opening up to the older girl. Aunt Petunia was looking worriedly into each of the windows, one by one.

Harry grinned and waved to her.

Aunt Petunia's eyes were drawn to his moving arm and she gave a sad smile and a little wave. She tugged on Vernon's blazer sleeve and pointed to Harry's compartment. Uncle Vernon gave a jocular smile and waved at his nephew boisterously, while also wrapping a comforting arm around his wife's shoulders.

Harry's grin redoubled and his waving grew more and more vigorous.

Uncle Vernon nudged Daisy and jerked his chin at Harry's window. Daisy's eyes grew misty, but she waved her hardest nonetheless.

Harry heard the train's whistle and felt anxiousness threaten to choke out his excitement, but he reached into his pocket and gripped his hand with the hand he wasn't waving with, and he felt the same fierce excitement he had experienced on the way back from Driargorr Ahly. The train jolted forward and Harry barked his nose against the glass. His eyes began to well with tears and he saw Aunt Petunia point to him, say something to Uncle Vernon, and then sob quietly into his chest.

Ginny and Daisy ran, half-laughing and half-crying, after the train, waving for all they were worth at the scarlet and gold monstrosity. Harry was not a little surprised to see that the two were holding hands. Daisy _never_ made friends that quickly.

The train made its way out of the station and Harry had to stop waving, given that he could no longer see anyone he felt he could wave to. He settled back into his less than comfortable seat. Not thirty seconds later, his compartment door opened and the youngest boy of the red-haired clan walked in.

The boy looked at Harry with a dour expression on his face. "Hey, is anyone sitting here?"

Harry shook his head.

The boy sat down. "Thanks." He looked up. "Are you really Harry Potter?" His expression was doubtful.

Harry nodded. "Yeah! My parents were Lily and James and Lord Voldemort didn't kill me."

The boy was gaping.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, extending a hand.

The boy shook himself. "Right! Yes!" He took the proffered hand. "Ron! Ron Weasely." He grinned. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

"Wait, so your pictures _don't_ move around?" Ron asked, "Weird..."

* * *

"Wait, so your sport is completely reliant on someone catching an impossible to see golden ball?" Harry asked, "Weird..."

* * *

"Wait, so there's literally _every_ flavor of bean here?" Harry asked, biting into a carpet flavored bean.

"Mhmm. Literally everything," Ron nodded, grimacing at a hair flavored bean..

"What about tastes that don't exist yet?" Harry returned.

Ron's eyes went wide. "They'd have to. It's Bertie Bott's _Every_ Flavor Bean, isn't it?"

The two boys spoke at the same time. "_Weird..._"

* * *

"And _that,_" Ron said, "Was the fourth closest the Cannons have ever come to winning anything."

"175 to 45?" Harry asked, nodding thoughtfully, "Yeah, that's pretty close, actually."

The compartment door opened slowly and a girl with brown, bushy hair walked in. "Excuse me, but have either of you two seen a toad about yea big?" She indicated a size with her hands. "A boy named Neville Longbottom-" She gave a disappointed sniff at Ron's poorly concealed chuckle, "Neville Longbottom lost one."

Harry and Ron glanced at each other and shrugged.

"So anyway," said Harry, "You came from a Wizarding family, right?"

Ron nodded.

The girl shrugged and sat down.

Ron looked askance at her.

"So," Harry pressed on, "Can you do any magic?"

Ron took out his wand. "Well, my brothers told me about this pretty cool spell." He pulled out a rather decrepit rat.

The girl frowned. "Are Wizarding rats _supposed_ to look dead?"

"No," said Ron, seemingly trying to save his dignity, "He's just had a hard day."

Harry grinned. "Bad life, more like."

"Do you want me to do the spell or not?" asked Ron.

"Oh by the way," said Harry, turning to the girl with a smile on his face, "I'm Harry. Nice to meet you."

The girl smiled back. "Hermione Granger. Charmed. Now," she turned to Ron, "Cast the spell, Rat-man!"

Ron's eyes widened a bit. "R-wha-um," he spluttered, "Ron! That's the – I mean – that's _my_ name." He took a deep breath. "Right. _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow_," he tapped the rat with his wand. "_Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow_!"

When nothing happened, Hermione glanced at Harry with a dubious look on her face.

Harry shrugged. "He's really smart about Quidditch."

Ron, meanwhile, was staring fixedly at the wall with a faraway stare. Harry thought he heard the boy mutter something about "never again," but Harry couldn't be sure.

"I mean," Hermione was saying, "I tried a couple of spells from the Standard Book of Spells Book One and it all worked for me." She looked at Ron pityingly. "Maybe that's not a _real_ spell."

There was more muttering from Ron and Harry thought he heard "show you a _real spell,_" but he couldn't be sure.

Just then, the compartment door was shoved open and a small, blonde boy, whose hair made Aunt Petunia's linoleum jealous with its sheen, entered. The two large boys had a bit harder time entering, and quickly resolved to stay outside, but to glare inside menacingly.

"Red hair, hand me down robes, freckles," the boy drawled, "And is that a _rat_?" The boy let out a guffaw. "_Obviously_ a Weasely."

"Pasty, tiny, robes that are a big meal away from splitting," Harry returned, "And are those _goons_?" Harry paused, looking confused. "Actually, wait, I don't actually know who you are."

An _thick_ silence ensued. Ron was looking at Harry with a mixture of awe and appreciation. Hermione seemed to be trying, largely unsuccessfully, to stifle her laughter. The boy's face, rather than turn red as Ron's had done, had gone the other way. His two bodyguards seemed unsure if they should again attempt to enter.

"And...who," the boy began, taking great and obvious lengths to remain calm, "Are...you?"

"Well, that's jolly old Harry Potter, isn't it?" piped up Ron with a big grin on his face.

The boy's eyes went wide. Really, was there _any_ other reaction people had to Harry's name? "Harry Potter? You're lying!"

Harry calmly shook his head. "He's not, mate. But who are you?"

"Too busy putting feet in your mouth to be polite?" Ron quipped, "Must be a Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy, in point of fact," said the boy, ignoring Ron entirely, giving Harry a warm smile. "_Extremely_ good to meet you, Harry." He offered a hand for Harry to shake.

"_Mr._ Potter, if you please, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, coolly.

"Oi!" came a voice from the hallway, "Ain't nobody talks to Draco like that!" The larger of the two boys shouldered his way inside and grabbed Harry's collar. He dragged Harry up, out of his seat. This had the unfortunate consequence of smacking Harry's face into the rack. Harry heard a _snap_ and suddenly his vision went blurry. The boy continued, "I'll be seeing to you _never_ doing that _again_."

Ignoring Ron and Hermione's gasps, Harry's hand found his wand in his pocket. _Now, what was that spell Ollivander used? Oh right. Wait. It punched a hole into the _ground. _Hmm..._

He slowly pulled the wand out, while making scared eyes at the bigger boy, and aimed the tip at the boy's foot. At least, Harry _hoped_ it was the foot.

"Wai-wait," Harry said, trying to sound scared, "I-I'm sorry, look, I'll _Diffindo_!" Harry hoped that was how spells worked.

The boy's eyes went wide with pain though, to his great credit, he didn't let go of Harry.

"Goyle!" Draco's voice was terrified, "You're bleeding!"

Goyle immediately let go of Harry and grabbed his shin, wailing like a baby whose voice had just dropped.

"You'll regret this, Potter!" Draco called over his shoulder as he pulled Goyle out of the compartment.

"We'll _really _have to have tea together, Draco!" Harry called back.

As the compartment door shut, Harry sat down and noticed Hermione and Ron staring avidly at him.

"What?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Are you _mental_?!" and "Where did you _learn_ that?!" hit Harry at the same time.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked Ron, holding a finger up to forestall the reply, "Ollivander's," he said to Hermione, before nodding to Ron.

Ron glanced at Hermione confused. When she only nodded appreciatively, he turned to Harry. "That was _Draco Bloody Malfoy_!" When Harry didn't react, Ron continued, "His dad's _big_ with the ministry."

Harry tilted his head. "Ministry?"

* * *

**AN: Done like dinner. Next chapter is Sorting and the First Night. I bet it's a **_**big**_** mystery where Harry's getting Sorted. XD**


	4. Chapter 4: Sorting

** AN: I wanted to show my thought process for each of the Trio and their placements so I have a little section for each of them. I'm curious what y'all think so let me know! :)**

* * *

After the wonderful excitement of traveling across the lake, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves sitting in a small room with the rest of the sixty or so other first years. The Sorting was about to begin and there was speculation from everyone about what sort of test it would be. The more conservative guesses posited a written exam, while the most ridiculous ranged from wrestling a troll to outwitting a sphinx.

"What did your brothers have to do, Ron?" asked Harry, moderately relieved to have an insider's knowledge.

Ron just shook his head, staring firmly at the ground. His hands were clenched around the seat of his bench and his knuckles were white.

"Are you ok?" asked Hermione, "You don't _look_ ok."

Ron glanced up at her. "You both don't understand. You're from the muggle world. It doesn't _matter_ for you two."

"What d'you mean, mate?" Harry asked, clapping a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"See, my parents, all my family really, expect me to get in to Griffindor. Sort of a family tradition." Ron shrugged. "So if I don't, it's sort of a stain on the old family name."

Harry frowned. "But what if you're not right for Griffindor? Wouldn't they want you to go where you fit the best?"

Ron shook his head. "See, you don't get it. For them, there's only one_ best_ House. And if I don't get in..." he shivered, "Let's just hope I get in."

Hermione tilted her head. "Isn't the whole point of have four Houses that there_ isn't_ a best House?"

Ron shrugged. "You'd think that, but people tend to think very specifically about the Houses." He cleared his throat. "Griffindor is the-"

Just then, the door opened and a matronly witch, resplendent in her pristine robes, walked in. Everything from her steely eyes to the tight bun on the top of her gray hair meant business. Her mouth rested in such a closed position that Harry wondered if she perpetually had something sour in her mouth.

"Right. My name is Professor McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts." Her voice was just as crisp and clean as the rest of her appearance, and just the littlest bit Scottish. "You will line up at the door according to your last name. Hannah Abbot?"

A smallish girl, that had the sweetest eyes Harry had ever seen, hesitantly raised her hand and stood up. "Y-yes?"

"Come here, girl. You will start the line." Professor McGonagall gestured to the floor in front of the door.

Hannah's eyes were wide with fear as she walked across the room. As she walked by Harry, he caught her eye and grinned. She cautiously smiled back and kept walking. It had spread through the room that, yes, he was _that_ Harry Potter and, no, he did _not _want anyone staring at him. However, he didn't mind if he initiated the contact. The staring was a little off-putting, that was all.

Hannah Abbot arrived at the door and smiled nervously at Professor McGonagall. The older witch managed a tight smile in return. "Now, students, we will call for you by name, so line up and prepare."

"Prepare for what, exactly?" called out a dark skinned boy from the back of the room.

Professor McGonagall graced the room with an enigmatic glare. "You'll just have to find out, won't you?"

As soon as she had walked out, Harry turned to Ron. "You were saying?"

Ron's face had gone from pale to sickly and Harry was starting to be seriously worried for Ron's bench. Seemed that in another moment or two, the wood would crumble beneath Ron's mighty grasp.

"Right!" Ron grasped at the conversation like a drowning man at a life raft. "Griffindor is sort of the 'good' House. Dumbledore went there, and so did a lot of other old heroes. And my parents want nothing more than for me to do the same." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Ravenclaw is the 'smart' House." He gestured at Hermione with his chin. "You'll probably get that."

Hermione smiled warmly at Ron. "_Thank_ you, Ron. That's very sweet."

"Anyway," Ron said, shaking himself, "Then there's Hufflepuff. Most people say only weaklings go to Hufflepuff." He shrugged. "I don't think that's the _whole_ story, but that's what they say." He gulped. "And, finally, we get to Slytherin."

"_I'll_ take it from here, Weasely," drawled Malfoy from across the room. All pairs of eyes were suddenly drawn to both trios. "See, Potter, Slytherin is-"

"It's the evil house!" shouted a boy sitting somewhat by himself. "There's never been a wizard that went bad that didn't go to Slytherin!"

"Really?" Harry asked, "That seems...unlikely."

"What Longbottom _means_," drawled Malfoy, "Is that Slytherin is the House of ambition and cunning." He looked imperiously around the room. "And where power lies, lies also..." he frowned, "lie."

"So close," said Hermione, shaking her head.

* * *

"Hermione Granger!" called Professor McGonagall from the Great Hall and Hermione walked out of the waiting room, getting one last thumbs-up from Harry and ignoring Ron's stupor. She walked out of the door and took her first look at the Hogwarts Great Hall.

She had, of course, read all about it, but the knowledge paled in comparison to the sight. Four massive tables stretched across the Hall; Slytherin and Griffindor on opposite sides with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the middle to keep the peace. The enchanted ceiling, ensorcelled by Galileo himself, was showing the night sky above. Little known fact: The sky was _actually_ the sky on the outside. Galileo had invented a sort of "two places at once" spell and was immediately censored by the Catholic Wizards. Hogwarts had been the only place he could perform the spell. _Hogwarts: A History_ was an absolutely brilliant read.

At the front of the Great Hall, directly in front of the Head Table, was the Sorting Hat. _Hogwarts: A History_ had been curiously vague about the actualSorting, but Hermione was not worried. Ravenclaw was _definitely_ for her. Hermione looked around at the students in the room as she approached the Hat. She saw some of her fellow first years sprinkled amongst the other students and didn't _see_ any cuts or bruises. A little relieved, she approached the Hat and its stool.

Professor McGonagall was standing a short ways from the stool, but moved forward when she saw Hermione. "Here, Miss Granger." She gestured at the stool and lifted the Hat off of it. "Have a seat."

Hermione sat down on the stool, really she sat _up_ on it, and peered down at the rest of the school. She had expected the Sorting to be mainly ceremonial, with most students mingling and joking with each other. Every eye, however, was on her, watching attentively.

"Take a breath, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said kindly. "A nice, deep one now."

Hermione complied and felt much better afterward.

"And, here we go!" said Professor McGonagall as she dropped the hat onto Hermione's head.

The brim fell over Hermione's eyes and she was surrounded by darkness.

_Ahh, yes. Miss Granger. Let's see here. Oh my, a _fantastic_ mind, decent amounts of courage, a strong sense of loyalty, yes, you could do well almost anywhere. Well, except Slytherin. Don't go there._

Hermione felt, more than heard, a voice in her head. Normally, voices in one's head was a bad thing, but

_Quite right, completely normal in this case._

So. Hermione was allowed to _choose_ what House she went to?

_To an extent. Most are more specifically attuned to a House. However, should you choose a House for the wrong reasons, I will stop you._

Hermione thought that was fair. Well, she _was_ leaning towards Ravenclaw...

_Naturally. A good thought. Ravenclaw will undoubtedly accentuate your strengths, however it will also accentuate your weaknesses._

That seemed natural.

_Should you choose Griffindor, you will be constantly sought out for your brains; you will be necessary to others. Should you join Hufflepuff, the loyalty of your housemates will warm your heart and their tendency towards hard work will stretch you in ways your intellect will not. Should you join Ravenclaw, you will be _alone.

Hermione thought about that. Others like her would not need her for research; they would simply do it themselves. Others like her had not known what friendship can give; they would simply retreat from her superiority. She saw the Hat's points. Ravenclaw would isolate her and most likely make her cold to the rest of the world.

_Quite right! So, we'll just say Griffin-_

Nope.

_What? What was that?_

Hermione wanted Ravenclaw.

_But you'll-_

She knew. But the environment of knowledge would not let her down.

_Being alone for all those years..._

Besides, she trusted Harry to stay her friend. He seemed decent enough. And Ron had complimented her intelligence.

_You can't honestly think-_

Hermione made up her mind. Knowledge and research was worth it. Absolutely.

_I...see... In that case... _"Ravenclaw!"

Hermione took the Hat off in time to be overwhelmed by the cheering and roaring that greeted her. The table clad in blue and bronze had practically all of its members standing and elated. Hermione caught the eye of a girl with curly, auburn hair and received a smile and pair of thumbs up. Hermione got off the stool and made her way down towards the table. She was aware that she wasn't as ecstatic as the rest of the students at her table, but she figured that was natural.

Hermione sat down in the first available seat, next to the curly haired girl, and the noise began to die down. Professor McGonagall strode forward and unfurled a scroll, but Hermione felt the girl on her right tapping her on shoulder.

The girl was smiling. "Hi, I'm Penelope Clearwater. Nice to meet you!"

* * *

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall called from the next room.

"Coming!" Harry called back. There were a couple of chuckles and a pat on the back from the nearly catatonic Ron and Harry was walking up and out of the room.

When Harry entered the Great Hall, the buzz of conversation went quiet. All eyes were on Harry as he looked around the storied Hall. He saw the four tables and thought to himself that the colors were a good idea. After a moment, the silence was beginning to wear on him so Harry waved to whole Hall. "Hello! Nice to meet you all!" There was an additional moment of silence before the entire Hall erupted in cheering and yelling. Harry saw Draco sitting with the emerald and silver House frowning and looking a little upset.

Harry covered his ears and looked around in shock and confusion before a solemn, though cheerful, voice behind him spoke, "_Silencio_!" Immediately the Hall went silent, though the students were still obviously yelling and cheering.

"Ah, that's better!" said the same voice.

Harry turned and saw the most wizardly looking wizard he could have conceived. The man was clearly around one hundred and eighty, given Ollivander's benchmark of two hundred, and was wearing midnight blue robes and a pointy hat, all of which sparkled. The man wore half-moon spectacles in front of periwinkle eyes that danced merrily, belying the rather solemn smile below. The rest of the head table was a cornucopia of oddities as well, from Hagrid waving earnestly, to a man twitching in what looked like pain, to a wizard so tiny that Harry could have picked him up and worn him like a hat. Harry grinned. He'd _never_ be bored.

"Well, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall, striding forward, "Right this way, please."

Harry followed her to a stool that held the _oldest hat he'd ever seen_. The thing had to be at least _three times_ as old as Ollivander. Professor McGonagall lifted the hat off of the stool and gestured for Harry to sit. When he did, she gave him a tight smile and said, "Here we go!"

Harry's vision was suddenly shrouded in Hat.

_Ah, what do we have here...Ah, lots of courage, decent mind-_

"Can you tell me about the Houses?" Harry asked.

_Err, you don't need to speak. Just think._

_Ah! That makes sense._ Harry thought, in what he hoped was genuine excitement. Emotions were-

_Hard, yes. Didn't you hear my song?_

Harry thought back the whole time he was in the room.

_A simple "no" would have sufficed, Mr. Potter._

_Right._ Harry tried to be contrite.

_I don't feel like singing the whole bloody thing again._

_That's fair! I heard that Hufflepuff was for weaklings, but that seems...wrong. _Harry thought Ron's description lacked...nuance.

_What?! _The Hat seemed genuinely shocked. _I would _not_ send any _weak_ student anywhere. I would send them packing. No no, Hufflepuff is the House of loyalty and hard work. They believe in tolerance, friendship, and fairness._ The Hat took the mental equivalent of a long sigh. _Now, as I was thinking, you'll do nicely in Griffin-_

_ I want Hufflepuff!_ Harry cut in. _That seems like fun._

_But, but you're so brave, so _confident,_ surely you want a House that will push you on to greater heights!_

Harry tried to mentally shrug. _I mean, I defeated a Dark Lord when I was only a year old. I don't think I'll really top that. Besides, I like having friends._

The Hat seemed to sigh. _Are you sure? Even _Slytherin _is better for you than Hufflepuff._

Harry shrugged again, trying to seriously get his thoughts across. _I want to go to Hufflepuff. I respect the power of friendship and hard work. When I was growing up, everything was more fun with other people. In this school, where super fun things happen all the time, it must be even _cooler_ with people you care about._

The Hat seemed a bit taken aback. _Mister Potter, Harry, I must apologize. I was most assuredly _not_ looking at what you wanted. I was merely looking at where you would do best. Though- _the Hat frowned- _It seems that orphans should be given a family and Griffindor, for all their camaraderie, is definitely not that. Hufflepuff is. You're right, better be- _"Hufflepuff!"

Harry lifted the Hat off of his head. To the eruption of cheers from the yellow and black table. Several of the more boisterous students were standing on the table itself, chanting "Potter is our friend" over and over again. Harry glanced over his shoulder and thought he saw a brief look of disappointment from the wizardly wizard. But then the wizard was smiling benevolently over the Hall and Harry was sure he had imagined it. He allowed himself another quick glance around the table, again seeing a man that looked to be in pain, but then Harry was turning and looking out over the Hall. The cheering subsided and everyone was looking expectantly at him.

"Um," Harry said, hearing a few titters. His mind went blank.

One of the red-headed twins Harry had met at King's Cross shouted, "Come on, Potter!" and there were more chuckles.

"Right!" Harry said, grinning, "I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you all!"

There were a lot of cheers and more clapping.

Harry cleared his throat. "I defeated the Dark Lord when I was-"

He was cut off by all the cheers and slamming of hands onto tables. Harry exaggerated rolling his eyes and gestured to everyone to settle down.

When they did, he continued, "But I didn't _do_ anything. I just lay there. I was only a year old, for crying out loud." He took a deep breath. "So _please_ don't get star struck. It's seriously annoying."

There was a silence and Harry wondered if he had gone too far.

Then, the other twin stood and shouted, "Oh, toss off Potter!"

Amid the gales of laughter, and joining in them himself, Harry walked over to his new House table. He sat down next to the girl he had grinned at in the other room, and was immediately besieged with questions.

* * *

In Ron Weasely's life, there were more than a few times he'd wished that he had a different last name. The first had been a sobering experience when he'd been around seven and his family hadn't been able to have dinner. His father explained that liking muggles was not a popular position at the ministry and, because of that, sometimes he was neglected at work. Ron had asked why his father simply didn't lie to get the money. His father had said that there were certain things in life that were more important than money. That people, muggle or magical, were people all the same. That treating those less powerful than yourself badly was the mark of cruelty. So, the Weaselys hadn't eaten dinner that night.

This moment was close to that. Ron was the last person sitting in the room next to the Great Hall. _Finally,_ he heard Professor McGonagall call out, "Ronald Weasely."

Ron stood up from the wooden bench, wiped some splinters onto his shirt, and walked over to the door. The Great Hall certainly lived up to its name. The massive Hall stretched out before him, the four tables multicolored and radiant. The scarlet and gold, the yellow and black, the sapphire and bronze, and the emerald and silver. Ron felt a bit awed that he was finally standing there, looking at it all. He had seen pictures, of course, but they utterly paled in comparison.

He smirked as he saw Hermione sitting at Ravenclaw, chatting with Percy's friend Penelope. Harry was, to his surprise, sitting at the Hufflepuff table, holding court with something like fifteen people. Ron figured that Harry would be in Griffindor; it just seemed right. And there, sure enough, was Draco Malfoy sitting smugly at the Slytherin table. Figures.

Ron walked over to the stool that held the Sorting Hat, he swore to curse his brothers somehow for making him worry, and sat down. He glanced up to Professor McGonagall, who gave him a reassuring smile.

"Are you ready, Mister Weasely?" Her voice was kind, utterly unlike her steely appearance.

"Um," Ron gulped, "Kind of."

Professor McGonagall lowered the Hat and said, "Really, Mister Weasely, there's no shame in any of the Houses. Don't worry about your mother."

Despite himself, Ron felt a bit better. "Thanks." He nodded. "I'm ready."

The Hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, "Slytherin!"


	5. Chapter 5: The First Night

**AN: Ughh, this took way too long and I'm sorry. Not having a written outline of chapters is starting to bite me, I guess. Well, I have the next few chapters planned so it should be a bit better. Thoughts? Predictions? Recommendations? Review/PM! I'll be answering reviews for this chapter in the AN next chapter. :D**

* * *

After the delicious feast, of which Harry had far too little, the wizard among wizards stood and approached a large golden podium that Harry could have sworn was not there moments ago.

He turned to a classmate next to him. "Who's that?"

The older boy looked at him strangely. "Mate, that's Albus Dumbledore. Greatest wizard of our time. Best Headmaster Hogwarts ever had."

Harry nodded. He could have guessed that greatest wizard part on his own just from looking at the man. "Thanks, Stephen."

Dumbledore raised his hands, gesturing for the few remaining talkers to quiet themselves. "Ah, a great a feast as has ever been eaten in this Great Hall. I shall speak quickly as you are all well-fed and," he winked, "No doubt ready to tuck yourselves in. First." He lifted a finger. "The Forbidden Forest is, as always, totally off-limits. First years, take heed. Even some of our older students seem to find this rule a tad difficult to follow." He smiled benevolently in the direction of the Weasely twins. "Second," he said as another finger joined the first, "Our caretaker, Argus Filch-"

"Right nasty piece of work," muttered Stephen.

"Has asked me to remind all of you that a complete list of banned items can be found on the door to his office." Dumbledore lifted a third finger, this one somehow looking ominous. "And lastly." His voice lowered a bit and his eyebrows lowered. "There is a door on the third floor that must remain closed to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Immediately, whispers abounded, but Harry remained separate from them. That sounded like a call to an adventure. Darn wizards.

All solemnity quickly fled Dumbledore's face. "Pip pip off to bed!"

There was sudden chaos as the hundreds of students all disengaged from their tables and began dashing off to the dorms. Harry and the rest of the first year Hufflepuffs were left sitting, looking around for direction. A tall, slim boy with a well-kept beard strode up. Harry heard Hannah sigh from next him.

"First years!" his voice boomed out, simultaneously loud and welcoming. "My name is Gabriel Truman and I'm the boy prefect this year." He winked and gestured with his right hand. "And this-"

A girl with long brown hair and black-framed glasses stepped up, "I am Felicity Waters. I'm the girl prefect this year." She turned and gestured over her shoulder for them all to follow her. "Our common room is this way."

All of the first years stood up and followed the prefects. Harry was forced to run several times to catch up with the group, as he kept stopping and staring at the wonders of Hogwarts. Massive moving staircases, pictures that waved at the group as they passed by. At one point, he was staring at a particularly interesting painting of three monks and an armored knight yelling in Latin about something, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, right?" said Felicity with a smile.

Harry turned and grinned back. "Yep! Sorry, everything is just so _cool_!"

They started walking and Felicity laughed. "I suppose so. After five years, it's all sort of boring."

Harry's mouth gaped. "_How_?" He gestured around. "There's just so much _stuff_."

Felicity shrugged as they turned down a hallway. "You just get used to it, you know?"

A steel helmet left the rest of its suit and began floating in the air in front of Harry and Felicity.

"See!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, "That's awesome!"

Felicity chuckled and pulled out her wand. "_Supercorrio_!"

Suddenly a gonging sound was heard and the helmet was caved in on side. Not two seconds later, another sound and another dent. This was accompanied by a shriek.

"Nooooo, shiny pretty helmy, why are you breaky?" sang a shrill voice.

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "What are you doing?! You're killing it!"

Felicity sighed ruefully. "If only I could. That's-" A small, vaguely corporeal form pulled itself from the helmet and _zoomed_ down the hallway, away from them, cursing loudly. Felicity continued through the being's departure, "Peeves. He likes to mess with students. It gets rough because most spells don't actually work on him. You have to hit things around him."

Harry nodded. "What was that spell you used?"

"The Crumpling Curse." Felicity grinned. "You can't find that one in a book. It's Hufflepuff tradition to pass down spells we discover to our underclassmen."

Harry pulled out his wand. "What should I Crumple?"

Felicity laughed, the sound ringing down the hallway. "Oh, Harry. That's a fourth year spell at least." She took a deep breath. "You'd have to-" She looked around.

Harry, meanwhile, was crouching next to a vase. "_Supercorrio_!"

The vase instantly crumpled in on itself, until it was a little ball of clay. Harry picked it up and walked back to Felicity.

"Look!" He smiled. "I did it!"

She frowned, then broke out laughing again. "What? How?" She took the clay from him.

Harry shrugged. "I just pointed my wand and said the words. I'm really surprised that it didn't break. I feel like it should have."

Felicity handed the ball back to him. "Naw, it's part of the spell." She gestured further down the hallway. "Shall we?"

Harry nodded and the two started walking again, idly conversing. Harry was glad that his prefect was so easy to get on with. She began pointing out things all around them and Harry drank it all in, grateful to hear so much from her. She explained what doors would be open when and how to predict them, which staircases could be coaxed into moving for you and other little things that sounded dead helpful.

Before long, they walked into a room with large wooden barrels. Just huge, stacked wooden barrels as far as the eye could see. Harry's eyes widened as he stared down the room. He couldn't even see an end to it.

Felicity put a hand on his shoulder. "Here we are."

Harry looked up at her. "Where is here?"

"Home, sweet, home." She walked forward into the room. "This is the entrance to our Common Room."

Harry frowned. "How? Is the door just at the end of the hall or something?"

Felicity shook her head and chuckled. "Oh no. This room is actually endless." She turned and regarded Harry. "See, every House has a sort of defense that stops other students from just walking in." She walked over to a certain barrel and placed a hand on it gently. "Here."

Harry walked over and tilted his head. "It's a barrel."

Felicity laughed again. She did that a lot. "Watch." She rapped on the barrel with her knuckles in a certain rhythm. At the last knock, the bottom of the barrel swung open and revealed a barrel-sized passageway.

"We needed a larger passageway," Felicity was saying, "Because we tend to come home in group more than other Houses."

Sure enough, they could both walk through the passageway, side by side, with plenty of room for others. There was a comforting smell to the inside of the barrel. It was earthy, homey, and reminded Harry a little of the garden that Aunt Petunia took care of so well. Being a barrel, the passageway was short enough and soon Harry and Felicity walked in to the Common Room of Hufflepuff.

The other first years were all lounging on the various black and yellow plush couches that littered the room, talking with each other. Gabriel walked over when Harry and Felicity walked in.

"Hey, what took so long?" Gabriel asked, grinning at Felicity.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up. Listen-" she grabbed his elbow and walked out of earshot of Harry.

Harry shrugged, figuring they had _prefecty_ things to talk about, and wandered over to where Hannah was sitting with three or four others.

"Harry!" Hannah called when she saw him. She waved and patted a cushion next to her on the couch.

Harry smiled at everyone when he sat down. "Hey! This whole barrel thing crazy, huh?"

"Yeah. I was expecting something a _lot_ more stiff and old," said a boy with brown hair and hazel eyes. "This is a lot better than that."

Harry extended his hand. "Harry Potter. What's your name?"

The boy grinned. "Oh I know who you are. I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley." He took Harry's hand and shook it.

Harry turned to the other person he didn't know: a girl with auburn hair and green eyes. "Hi! Harry Potter." He extended his hand again.

The girl turned red and look at Hannah, obviously terrified.

"Oh Sue, come on," said Hannah, rolling her eyes. "You're in the same House as him. You have to introduce yourself, at least."

The girl took a deep breath and looked at Harry. Her red face went full on magenta, but she slowly extended a shaking hand. When they made contact, she managed, "Susan Bones. Nicetomeetsyou."

Harry chuckled. "Nice to meets you tooz. So," he said, leaning back into his seat, "Are they going to read the rules?"

"You missed most of it," said Justin, "It's basically just 'Be Nice' and 'Be Fair.' They said to practice and to just sit around and hang out."

Harry laughed. "Nice. I'm going to like this House."

"There's just one more thing to do," said Hannah, "They're giving each of us a Mentor. A fourth year to help us out and to introduce us to the upper classes."

Harry nodded. "That's nice of them. I wonder if the other Houses do that."

Susan shook her head. "Only Hufflepuff." Her voice was tiny, but she was at least talking at a normal pace.

"Hey, everyone!" boomed out Gabriel, "It's time to meet your mentors!"

All the first years turned themselves to see the tall prefect.

"I'm posting the list over here on the door. When you're ready to meet them, just talk to me or Felicity and we'll take you to them." He pulled out his wand and tapped the paper before putting it on the door.

There was a sudden rush as the first years ran over to see who their mentor was. Harry made his way over a little more slowly than the rest of his peers. By the time he got there, several students had already run over to Gabriel and Felicity to meet their mentors. Harry quickly scanned the list and found his name next to "Ferb Hannigan," but the name was crossed out and "Cedric Diggory" was there instead.

Harry made his way over to Felicity and said, "Hey, who's Cedric Diggory?"

Felicity smirked. "Right this way, Mr. Potter."

She led him through a door on the right side of the Common Room and down a hallway with doors on either side. "So, on the left are the boys' rooms, on the left are the girls'. Each door is a different year." She stopped in front of a door with a large 4 on it. "Here we are. Just knock whenever you want. Also," She turned Harry around and pointed to a door on the other side with a 5 on it. "That's me. Let me know if you need anything!" She smiled and walked back to the Common Room.

Harry turned back and knocked three times on the 4 door.

"Yeah?" came a voice from the inside, "Who are you looking for, firstie?"

"Cedric Diggory," Harry replied. "He's my mentor, I guess."

"Haha, Ced, go to him!" the same voice said, "He's your one true love!"

"Oh shuttup, Hannigan," said another voice.

The door opened and Harry was looking up at a boy with shaggy, brown hair, lazy blue eyes, and a soft smile on his lips. "Hey. I'm Cedric." He extended a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Harry took it with a grin. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, too."

**Meanwhile**

Hermione was in love. She didn't care if she would be alone forever, let alone for the next seven years, if Ravenclaw Tower was the place she would be alone. Books upon books upon books upon even more books littered literally everywhere. Books on every topic imaginable, and even a few unimaginable, were sprawled across the room. Aside from those in active use, there were the books on the bookshelves. There weren't walls, per se, in Ravenclaw Tower, there were bookshelves.

Hermione could barely pay attention to the rules of Ravenclaw House, which goes to show how _many_ books there were.

"And, remember, if you get caught disturbing someone during Study Time for any reason short of death," Male Prefect was saying, "You'll get bookshelf privileges revoked." He looked at Female Prefect. "That's it, right?"

Female Prefect nodded. "Just be respectful. That's really it."

Male Prefect smiled at them all. Hermione supposed it was a nice smile, as smiles go. "Your things are already in your room. Feel free to do whatever you want now."

Hermione made a beeline and grabbed the book that had been teasing her mind during the entire talk, "Everything or Nothing: The Secrets of Magic."

She was quickly curled up in a large, plush chair, the book open on her lap.

"That book's terrible," said a boy's voice.

"I'll figure that out soon enough, I think," Hermione responded.

"If you really want something to blow your mind, I can help you out," the boy's voice persisted.

"Thanks. I'll let you know," Hermione replied. She head the boy walking away. Honestly, some people. Couldn't he see that she was _reading_?

**Meanwhile**

Ron descended the steps to the Slytherin Dungeons with the pallor and air of one condemned. The students around him were babbling on and on about inane things like friendships and classes. Didn't they _understand_ that Slytherin would eat them alive? Didn't they _know_ that they were heading into the very bowels of Hogwarts? Ron shuddered. He'd be lucky to survive to the morning. Ron's eyes widened. That was _it_. If he didn't sleep, they couldn't kill him!

Slightly cheered, Ron looked around at the first years he'd be living with. Draco, along with his two growths, were muttering amongst each other and looking around at the others. Ron caught the eye of a girl his age and he immediately looked away, lest she think he was aggressing. A few seconds later, he chanced a glance back at her and saw, to his surprise, that she was smiling at him. He gave a hesitant smile back.

Not much later, they all arrived at the Dungeon.

"All right, firsties, my name is Francis McFornal, Slytherin Prefect." The large boy sneered at them all. He gestured to the doorknob, a snake, and grabbed it. He pulled it forward, and it suddenly grew a neck and the eyes gleamed, making the whole knob come alive. "Malfoy. Step forward."

Draco smirked at all of the other first years, letting them know that he was special. He walked towards McFornal. "What do you need, Prefect?"

McFornal grabbed his arm and stabbed the snake's fangs into his arm. Draco let out a cry of pain, his eyes going wide. There was a slight splash of blood, but the snake's eyes gleamed again and the blood vanished into the doorknob. McFornal let go of the knob and it snapped back into the door.

"Please, Malfoy, go in." McFornal smiled evilly at Draco.

Draco was cradling his arm and looked at McFornal with hurt eyes. Ron was hard put to keep from chuckling to himself. Draco strode forward and put his hand on the doorknob. He didn't even turn it, however, and the door opened. Draco went in, and Ron thought he saw a sniffle. Cheered immensely, Ron strode forward with the rest of the first years to be let in.

When McFornal saw Ron, he frowned. "Weasely, right?"

Ron nodded, confident. "Yep."

"You know, Griffindor's that way. I think you're in the wrong place." He smirked.

Ron shook his head. "Sorting Hat put me here." He presented his arm, deciding that he may as well go in for a pound as a penny. "Mark me."

McFornal tilted his head in confusion. "Sure." He brought down the snake's head down on Ron's forearm a little harder, Ron thought, than on the others, but he was able to choke down his pained cry.

He turned and went into the Common Room. It looked _just_ like his Great Aunt Tessy's living room, except for the silver and green. A couch or two, several desks, and a rusted mirror were all the furnishings had to offer. They all looked rather disused. A few older students were lounging on the couches, but all the first years were lined up against the wall across from the door. A few looked scared, but most were looking around smugly, occasionally nodding at friends amongst the older students.

Ron lined up next to the girl who smiled at him, but they did not acknowledge each other. It seemed inappropriate to talk in this room, like they might disturb some Great Force if they did. He did catch a wink out of the corner of his eye, however, and returned one as subtly as possible. The rest of the first years trailed in, some sniffling from the pain of the snake bite. Ron had a sudden, strange, rush of contempt for them. After all, he had come through the same thing just fine.

He shook himself. That wasn't like him.

McFornal came through at the end of the group and regarded the group of first years with contempt. "Weasely, Davis, Lurtz, and Triali, go into that room." He pointed across the room at one of the three doors that led away from the Common Room. "Now."

The four hesitantly looked at each other before making their way out of the room. As they exited, Ron heard McFornal saying, "Now that the trash is gone, let's-"

When the four were in the room to which they had been sent, the girl Ron had winked at addressed them all. "Do we know why we were separated?"

Ron shrugged. "We're all either not Pureblood or, like me, blood traitors. Doesn't matter, though." He glanced at each of them. "At this point, it's us versus them."

The other three looked at him questioningly.

"See," Ron said, gesturing at them, "They've put us in here, while they talk about important things that 'don't concern us.' I don't like that." He put his hand out, palm down. "Who's with me against the racist bigots in there?"

The girl, looking a bit shocked, slowly reached her hand out and laid it on Ron's. The other boy and girl looked at Ron, then at each other, and also put their hands in.

Ron grinned. "First thing's first. We need to learn more spells than they know."

* * *

**AN: Thing Happen! :D Next time on Harry the Hufflepuff: Classes Start!**


	6. Chapter 6: Classes!

**AN: Below is my class "schedule" for the first years, just so we can keep me accountable for who's in whose class. I'm not doing a daily schedule cuz I'm pretty sure Rowling Herself didn't keep a consistent one. If I've missed something, let me know after reading the chapter.**

**Charms: Hufflepuff/Griffindor, Ravenclaw/Slytherin**

**Transfiguration: Hufflepuff/Slytherin, Ravenclaw/Griffindor**

**Potions: Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw, Griffindor/Slytherin**

**Herbology: Griffindor/Slytherin, Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw**

**DADA: All separate**

**History: All together**

**Astronomy: All together**

**If I don't write about a class, just assume nothing important happened in it. I'm trying to get through Book 1 fast so there won't be as much world building as there was in Rowling's. Review with a question if you have one!**

**Reviews get answered:**

**Geetac: :D Yay! Thanks!**

**Arabella Lee Smith: I think Ron was mostly shafted by Rowling in canon. She sets him to be awesome in the first book, but then he doesn't really do anything. I think my Ron's going to be a lot more fun to read about.**

**Ninja Bunny Go: It's a joke that I'm going to pay off...at some point. Hopefully.**

* * *

Harry was looking blearily at his class schedule, not really able to focus at all. It was the following morning and he was tired. He'd been up late talking with Cedric, Felicity, Hannah, Justin, even Susan at some point, and had stayed up far too late. He shifted his shoulders, not being used to the robes' weight yet and pulled a little on the fabric, trying to make it a bit more comfortable.

"Harry!" said someone to Harry's left, "You're looking chipper today!"

Harry groaned and resolved to _always _go to bed on time. "Rghh, that's good I guess. I feel rather worse."

A far too awake Justin Finch-Fletchley sat next to him. "You'll have to learn sarcasm to get on in this life, mate." He pulled over a rasher of bacon and helped himself and Harry to a generous helping each. "What else do you want?"

Harry folded the schedule, put it in his pocket, and looked for the first time around the table. "Coffee, I suppose. And maybe-" He frowned, "What's that?" He pointed to a plate piled high with a strange looking gelatinous substance.

Justin chuckled. "That's-" He paused. "You know, I have no idea what that is." He turned away from Harry and waved to someone further on down the table. "Oi! Ernie! What's this jelly stuff?"

The boy, Ernie, rolled his eyes and folded up the newspaper he had been reading ponderously. "It's Breakfast Glue." He regarded Justin with bored eyes. "Anything else?"

"Nope, that's it mate," Justin said, frowning a little. "Geez, what's with him?"

"Maybe it's the morning and not everyone's as ready for the day as you?" Harry suggested, showing that he did, in fact, know sarcasm.

Justin grinned as he ate two bacon strips at the same time. "Perhaps."

Harry manage to locate a goblet of coffee and drank deeply of the energizing ambrosia. "Phew. I needed that."

"You know," said Hannah, sitting down opposite Harry and Justin, "They say coffee stunts your magic."

Harry looked at her with what he hoped were bloodshot eyes. "Worth it." He pulled out his folded schedule. "Anyone know how to get to the Potions dungeon?"

"Oooh, you've got Snape in the morning?" asked Felicity, sitting down next to Harry. "That's rough. He's a cruel bugger, right enough. Even worse in the mornings."

Harry sighed. "Just my luck."

"Our luck," corrected Hannah, "We all take classes together."

Harry tilted his head. "Really? That's a bit better, I suppose. Regardless," he held up the schedule, "Anyone know where it is?"

Felicity nodded. "Yeah. But you should ask Cedric. He's your mentor."

Harry brightened. "Yeah! I'll go find him!"

Justin, being done with breakfast, and Hannah, having fallen in love with Cedric, decided to follow Harry. Harry wandered along the table, smiling here, nodding there, until he reached Cedric's seat. Cedric was surrounded by a cadre of friends, most of which Harry had met the previous night, and none of which he remembered. They were chatting about their schedules, some moaning, others exalting.

"Hey, Ced?" Harry asked, "Can you show us to the Potions Dungeon?"

Cedric glanced back at his protegee and grinned. "Sure, Harry. Give me like five minutes and I'll come find you."

Harry nodded and turned to look at the greater Great Hall. He quickly saw Ron sitting at the Slytherin Table, muttering conspiratorially with three other first years. They were noticeably separate from the rest of the House. Hermione was sitting, engrossed in a book, likewise separated from her House. She didn't even seem to realize that breakfast was in front of her. Harry looked a little closer and was bemused to discover that her eyes were more bloodshot than his were.

Harry figured that Hermione would not appreciate the interruption, so he turned to Justin and Hannah and said, "Hey, I'm going to go catch up with Ron for a bit, all right?"

Hannah bit her lip. "Didn'tCedric-" Her voice caught a little, "Say that he'd be ready soon? It wouldn't be nice to make him wait."

Harry shrugged. "It's fine. I'll just be right over there."

"Yeah, go. We'll find you when he's ready," said Justin, gesturing towards the Slytherin table with his chin.

Harry grinned. "Cool." He jogged over to Ron's side of the table and plopped down.

"So, _that_ will be when we can take down Malfoy and Zabini _at the same time_," Ron was saying, his eyes wide.

His friends, with eyes likewise wide, were nodding, comprehension dawning in their eyes.

"And after _that_," Ron said, "Can anyone tell me?" He looked around at his conspirators.

"Then, we..." one of the girls trailed off.

"We break their kneecaps so's the know not to mess with us?" asked the other boy, who looked to be more muscle than anything else.

Ron shook his head. "Not quite, Lurtz." He looked around. "Anyone?"

They all shook their heads. Harry was intrigued.

"_Then_ we can take over the whole House!" Ron finished, gesturing widely with his hands. Not looking at the previously empty seat next to him, Ron lightly swatted Harry's shoulder with his hand.

"Hey, mate!" Harry grinned. "Hard at work already?"

Ron's eyes bugged and he stared at Harry for a solid ten seconds before shaking himself and blinking. "Blimey. Harry. Thought you were-" He glanced around Harry at the rest of his House. "Someone _else,_" he finished in a whisper.

Harry shook his head. "Nope, I'm still me, mate."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, of course you are. Wouldn't make sense for you to be anyone else, would it?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't think it would. Anyway," he turned to Ron's compatriots, "Who are all of you?"

One of the girls smiled prettily and extended a hand, which Harry shook. "Tracey Davis. A pleasure, Harry Potter."

The muscly boy casually crushed Harry's hand in his handshake. "Tobias Lurtz, Mr. Potter." He leaned in. "If you ever need a bit strength behind you, let me know."

The last girl was red and fidgeting when Harry turned to her. There was always one, Harry thought. "Um, Mr. Potter, hi, um, I'm, like, Abigail Triali." Her voice was small, but lilting. Like a flute or a reed pipe. Her hand was ethereal, and Harry wasn't entirely sure it was completely there when he shook it.

"Nice to meet you all," he said, smiling at them all. "Any friend of Ron's is a friend of mine."

"Funny you should be talking about _friends_, Potter," drawled a voice from down the table, "Given that you haven't the foggiest clue about making _good_ ones."

Harry stood and turned to see Draco Malfoy approaching him, flanked by his two cronies. "Well, well, Draky Maleficent," Harry said with a straight face, "We meet again."

Draco's face tinged pink. "It's 'Draco Malfoy' as you know very well, Potter."

"Of course," Harry said, struggling mightily to maintain a straight face, "My old nemesis, Drogo Mephistopheles." Giggles from Ron and his friends now also threatened Harry's composure. "What do you want?"

Draco's face was a strange, mottled fuchsia. "I, phlrgh, hmmm,"

Harry tilted his head, "What was that?"

Draco took a deep breath and composed himself. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" he shouted, his wand aimed directly at Harry.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned and looked at the wand, confused. After a moment, he spoke, "Are you sure that was a _real_ spell?"

Ron barked out a laugh from behind him, sparking the rest of his friends to follow suit.

Harry quickly glanced back to his table and saw Cedric standing up. He'd have to finish up quickly. He looked back at Malfoy, who was looking at his wand, scandalized.

"But, but, Daddy told me..." Malfoy was muttering. He shook himself and looked up to see Harry leveling his own wand. "Don't even bluff, Potter," he sneered, "If I can't do anything, surely you can't either!"

Cedric was passing by the Ravenclaw Table, waving at a few friends. Harry had to act now. "_Supercorrio!_"

* * *

"I didn't even know you _could_ Crumple someone's hair!" said Cedric, as he led Harry towards the dungeons.

Harry shrugged modestly. "I mean, I didn't want to kill him and Crumpling his clothes seemed a little _too_ cruel."

Cedric laughed. "Yeah, fashion is the best place to hit a Malfoy."

The two boys found a group of first years standing in front of an ominous metal door. Harry waved to his classmates and turned to than Cedric. "I think I got it from here."

Cedric looked at Harry dubiously. "Are you sure?"

Harry grinned. "Pretty sure. Thanks, Cedric!"

Cedric smiled back. "Of course, Harry. Anything you need, feel free to ask, ok?"

Harry nodded and waved as Cedric jogged back where they had come from. He turned and saw the group staring at him. Harry saw Justin and Hannah amongst the other Hufflepuffs, and also Hermione standing off by herself. She had a book in her hands, but seemed to be regarding Harry over it.

"Hey, everyone!" Harry said. He glanced around again. "Why are you all staring at me?"

Immediately, all of the Ravenclaws turned to each other and began whispering in hushed tones. Well, almost all of the Ravenclaws. Hermione stowed her book in her bag and walked over to Harry.

"_What_ spell did you use?" she asked, her eyes a mixture of amusement and indignation.

Harry shrugged. "The Crumpling Curse. It Crumples things."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Where did you learn it? I heard Penelope saying she'd never heard of it."

Harry, feeling not a little interrogated, said, "My prefect, Felicity. She used it on Peeves last night."

Hermione huffed. "What's Peeves? Ugh," she sighed, "_How_ is it that you already know two things that I don't?"

Harry chuckled. "Not rightly sure. I'm sure there'splenty you know that I'm clueless about." He pulled out his wand. "I can teach it to you, if you want. It's pretty easy."

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "Go on then."

Harry tapped the parchment. "_Supercorrio_!"

The sheet instantly crumpled into a tight ball. Harry picked it up and began the long process of making the thing flat again while Hermione frowned at it. He soon had the wrinkled paper flat enough and resting primly in the palm of his hand.

Harry smiled at Hermione. "Your turn."

She pulled her wand out and tapped the paper. "_Supercorrio_!" She said. The paper scrunched up again, though not as tightly as Harry's. Hermione brightened and put the ball back into her bag. "That was _easy_!"

Harry nodded, grinning. "Felicity said it was a fourth year spell, but I'm not really sure what she meant."

Hermione turned thoughtful. "Maybe you have to be a fourth year to fully control how quickly you Crumple a thing."

Harry nodded. "You know, the helmet Felicity crumpled did so a lot slower than what I did."

There was a sudden silence amongst the students. Harry turned to look down the hallway and saw a man standing there.

"You will please await me in the classroom." His voice was slow, quiet, and resonated with power and authority.

Without a word, all of the first years hurried into the dungeon and sat down. The room was able to comfortably accommodate all of them, only two or three chairs left unused. The students split the room according to House, except for Harry and Hermione sitting together in the front of the classroom.

When all of the children were sitting, the professor introduced himself. "I am Professor Snape, Master of Potions, and the unfortunate person tasked with teaching all of you." His voice commanded absolute attention. "I can teach you how to brew fame, sip from glory, and even stopper death. That is," he grace them all with sneer, "If you are not the usual lot of dunderheads I have to teach."

Harry heard Hermione let out a quick short breath, as though she were preparing for a quick burst of activity. Professor Snape went through the list of all of the students, reading their names lazily.

"Harry...Potter?" Professor Snape looked up from the scroll of paper. "Ah yes, Mr. Potter." His eyes took on a malevolent glint. "Our newest...celebrity."

Harry grinned. "Nice to meet you, Professor."

Professor Snape frowned. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry frowned in confusion. Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I'm not rightly sure, sir."

Professor Snape clucked his tongue, looking superior. "Clearly fame isn't everything." He paced a step or two before snapping his eyes back to Harry. "Where would you look for a bezoar?"

Harry shrugged. No one else, except for Hermione, seemed to know so it seemed to Harry that this was not common enough information to feel bad for not knowing. "I'm not entirely sure, sir."

Snape grinned triumphantly, though Harry thought it looked more than a bit evil. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry sighed. "Given that I only learned what magic _was_ not a month ago, I hardly think it fair to single me out like this."

"You had your books," said Snape coldly. His eyes narrowed, "Finally, what is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry could practically feel Hermione vibrating next to him in anticipation of answering the question. Snape, though, was staring only at him. "I think you've demonstrated my lack of knowledge well enough, Professor." Harry's voice was serious and quiet. "Perhaps you should give Hermione a chance."

Snape glanced absently at Hermione, who was practically standing. "Sit down, you silly girl." He addressed the rest of the class, though whenever his eyes passed over Harry, they glinted. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and will cure most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are, in fact, the same plant. This plant is also called aconite."

The sound of quills scratching parchment filled the dungeon as Ravenclaws copied down the notes frantically and Hufflepuffs hurried to imitate them. Harry stared at the dark man with greasy hair who called himself a professor and felt his cheeks burning. His eyes stung and soon felt moist. Harry was burning inside. It wasn't _right._ It wasn't _fair_. Why should he get picked on? No one else knew any of those answers, except for Hermione, and yet Snape had singled him out for humiliation.

The rest of the lesson wasn't too bad, though by the end of it Harry's frustration at Snape had morphed into a full-blown anger. They had to make a simple potion that was supposed to cure boils. Why anyone would use this, as opposed to any over the counter ointment, Harry didn't know, but he was actually starting to enjoy himself. It reminded Harry of cooking, something he had enjoyed doing at the Dursleys, and something about crushing the snake fangs made Harry feel ever so much better.

Before too long, however, a Ravenclaw named Terry Boot was about to add in a helping of porcupine quills, and Hermione snatched his wrist. "No! You have to add the quills _after_ taking it off of the fire."

Terry frowned. "Where did it say that?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed to the book. "There. _Honestly._"

Snape, from across the room, heard the exchange, and swept over to their table. "Miss Granger, I highly urge you to allow others to make their own mistakes. That's a point from Ravenclaw."

This was so utterly unfair that Harry had to say something. "Oh please, sir, that's ridiculous."

The ambient chatter in the classroom went silent. Every eye, even some not in heads, turned to look at Harry.

Snape's voice was deadly quiet. "What was that?"

Ignoring Hermione's kick under the table, Harry soldiered on. "She was helping him. That should be rewarded."

Snape's eyes glinted again. "Is that so, Potter? I suppose that's a point from Griffindor for your presumptuousness."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again in confusion. Griffindor? But he was in Hufflepuff.

Snape took advantage of the confusion to move away, over to yell at Hannah and Justin for how open their gaping mouths were. He found no other reason to bother Harry, so he and Hermione were able to put together a decent potion.

As they left, Harry remarked, "You know, I could have sworn he took that point off of Griffindor and not Hufflepuff."

Hermione frowned. "You're right. I'll have to research that." She turned on Harry. "And you didn't say anything?" She looked daggers at him.

Harry recoiled. "Sorry! I panicked! I didn't want him yelling at me anymore!"

Hermione tut-tutted. "That'll come back to bite you. I don't think it's wise to upset Griffindor."

* * *

After a filling lunch of talking and laughing with Justin and Hannah, Harry and the rest of his year made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Art classroom. Unlike the Potions dungeon, it was a lot more like the classrooms Harry remembered from before Hogwarts. The desks and chairs were arranged in semi-circles, each one larger than the one in front of it. Only Hufflepuffs were in this class, and Harry decided to sit in the middle of the room with a couple of students he hadn't met yet. Harriet Sanchez and Annabelle Beckman were chatting animatedly with Harry while Francis Chu was quiet and red-faced, looking at the surface of his desk.

Before too long, the man that had looked to be in pain walked in and shut the door. "H-hello, class. My n-n-name in Pro-professor Quirinus Quirrel. Welcome t-to the D-d-d-efense Against the D-d-d-ark A-r-r-ts."

He was walking down the aisle, towards the front of the classroom, apparently oblivious of the mutters surrounding his stuttering. When he walked by Harry, however, something strange happened. He looked at Harry as though Harry had struck him. Harry tilted his head in concerned confusion and Professor Quirrel shrank back, letting out a small whimper. He visibly shook himself and tried to straighten up, but every time he tried, he just doubled back over in pain.

"N-no, you c-can't," he pleaded.

"What is it, Professor?" Harry asked, his concern for the man rising. "Are you all right?"

Professor Quirrel had fallen to the ground, seeming to writhe in pain. "G-get out! P-p-potter, out!"

Harry reached a hand down to help his professor up.

"NO!" Professor Quirrel screamed, "GET OUT! NOW!"

Harry threw a frightened glance around the room and bolted out. He heard the faint sigh of relief Professor Quirrel gave as Harry left. The door shut and Harry looked around the empty hallways. Hogwarts was very different without laughing and joking friends. Harry sighed.

He made his way back to the Common Room, figuring he'd do some homework or something, though his thoughts on that were vague. He rapped his knuckles on the barrel and made his way through the large passageway, enjoying the warm, earthy feeling all around him. There was only one person in the Common Room when Harry got in there, so there wasn't much in the way of furniture. Felicity had explained that the Common Room was enchanted to always have more than enough places for everyone to sit comfortably. Sure enough, as soon as Harry walked in, a plush chair made itself known in his periphery.

The other student in the Room, as was common enough amongst Hufflepuffs who didn't know each other, waved and gestured to another seat next to her. Harry smiled warmly at the girl and walked over. She was older than he was, several years in fact, but her smile melted years off her face. Her hair was bubblegum pink and her eyes were a blueish green. She was reclining on a couch with a lazy smile on her face.

"Hi there!" Her voice was bright and cheery; it reminded Harry of sunshine. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said, smiling back, "Who are you?"

"Nymphadora Tonks," the girl said, "But if you ever call me Nymphadora, I'm going to kill you." She wrinkled her nose.

Harry smirked, "All right, all right, Miss Tonks it is. Might as well just call you 'Nymph,' though, right?"

Tonks blushed. "What do you mean by that?!" She took a closer look at Harry. "Wait, how old are you?"

"Eleven." Harry sat down. "You?"

Tonks' eyes went wide. "Blimey! You're _that_ Harry Potter?"

Harry tilted his eyes. "Is there another Harry Potter?"

Tonks thought for a moment and shook her head. "I guess not. Wait," she paused, "Aren't you all in class right now?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I got kicked out." He shrugged. "I don't even know why. He just started screaming about how I had to leave."

Tonks frowned. "Who?"

"Professor Quirrel." Harry sighed. "So now I have no one to teach me Defense."

Tonks brightened. "I can!"

"Really?!" Harry exclaimed, "Don't you have things to do?"

Tonks smirked. "It's fine. I already have a place in the Auror Academy, so I don't have to try all that hard. Don't get me wrong," she explained hurriedly, seeing Harry's face, "I'm going to do my best, but I have a little more time for extracurriculars."

Harry pulled out his wand. "Cool! I already know the Crumpling Curse. That's a great spell!"

Tonks snorted. "What? The Crumpling Curse? Oh," she nodded, "Felicity taught it to you, right?"

Harry nodded. "She used it to get rid of Peeves my first night here."

"To be fair, that's what most of us use it for." Tonks frowned. "Wait, you're a first year and you used it?"

Harry winked.

"Phew, that's incredible," Tonks breathed, "Most of us do that as fourth years." Tonks tapped a finger against her cheek. "All right then, I'll teach you the Sticking Charm."

"Cool!" Harry bounced in his seat. "How do I do it?"

Tonks smirked at him. "Try and stand up first."

* * *

"All right, class, now you're going to practice the Levitating Charm. Please break off into pairs, since thanks to Mr. Finnegan of Griffindor, we only have enough feathers for every two of you," squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms Professor. He had demonstrated the Charm for the previous twenty minutes and, frankly, Hermione was tired of waiting. It was simple enough and she wanted to get it under her belt.

Ron, after casting suspicious glances over his back, walked over to where Hermione was sitting by herself. "So, do you have a feather?" He brought one out from behind his back. "Because I brought one."

Hermione smiled. "So you did. Let's get started then."

Ron sat down and said, "Ladies first."

Hermione faced down the feather sitting demurely on the desk. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The feather gave a little twitch. Hermione frowned. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" This time, she focused much harder on the swish-and-flick that Professor Flitwick had shown them all. The feather happily bounced up in the air. It hovered there at the right height Hermione had been aiming for and was even slowly turning in midair.

Ron grimaced and sighed at Hermione's triumph floating happily in the air. The feather began its slow descent just as Professor Flitwick noticed and trundled his way over.

"Well done, Miss Granger! Ten points to Ravenclaw!" Professor Flitwick clapped his tiny hands. He turned to Ron expectantly. "Well, give it a try Mr. Weasely."

Ron frowned at the feather sitting on the desk. Here it was. He was performing a spell in front of his House. He had to prove how proficient he was. He had to make his Housemates take him seriously. If they didn't...he wanted to avoid that line of thinking.

Ron took a deep breath. "_Wingardium Leviosah_!" The feather refused to move. Ron frowned. He took a deep breath and blew onto the feather. To his consternation, it didn't move. Ron reached over to touch the feather and, when he tried to pick it up, it refused to be lifted.

Professor Flitwick, seeing this, quickly waved his wand and then motioned for Ron to try again.

Hermione leaned over and whispered into Ron's ear, her breath tickling Ron's neck, "It's _LeviOHsa_, not _LevioSAH._"

Ron flashed a grateful smile at Hermione, then swished and flicked his wand, "_Wingardium Leviohsa_!"

His relief was palpable as the feather zipped up into the air with all the energy of a Peppered-Up Snitch.

**Time Shift**

In the evening of their first day of school, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were causing raised eyebrows and murmuring by sitting all together at the Ravenclaw Table. Ron was relieved to spend every moment possible away from his Housemates, and Harry hadn't made many friends among the Ravenclaws yet. All three of them were chatting idly about their days; Hermione was instantly jealous that Harry had a seventh year Auror student teaching him Defense, and Ron was suitably confused at Snape punishing Harry by taking points from Griffindor. Ron also made the whole table laugh by Levitating his pumpkin juice into his mouth instead of drinking it.

"Say, Ron, I saw a notice in my Common Room talking about optional Flying Lessons on Halloween," Harry said, swallowing a bite of pork-chop, "What's with that?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's eating.

"Well, you get these things called broomsticks," said Ron with the air of someone talking to a child, "And-"

"What?" Harry interrupted, "Actual broomsticks?"

Ron nodded, "Aye, mate. Then you learn how to fly them."

Harry grinned excitedly, "I'm _definitely_ going to do that!"

Ron smiled back, "Me too, mate. It'll be a laugh."

The two boys looked at Hermione. She slowly looked over her book at them. "Please. There are _far_ better things I could be doing." She began reading again. "You boys have fun with your flying toys."

* * *

**AN: Again, assume any class I don't mention is basically canon, and extrapolate what they do in class: Harry is confident and friendly, Hermione reads and excels, and Ron does Ron things. Any specific questions about things I didn't address to your liking? Any predictions about anything? Any constructive criticism? Review/PM! **


	7. Chapter 7: Flying on Halloween

**AN: Halloween! Yay! So, I'm American and I'll miss most Britishisms. However, I'm doing my best. So, when something sounds odd, think of the British version.**

**Review Responses:**

**That Other Coin: Yay! Thanks! I thought it made more sense than what Rowling did. Yeah! And now you get to question **_**why**_** his tongue slipped, bwahaha! Yeah, y'all should keep me accountable for Harry not becoming super-Harry.**

**Geetac's Liking Chapters counter: 5**

**Kairan1979: Yeah! :) We shall see, we shall see... As for Quirrel, it would indeed seem that way. He is certainly more affected by it.**

**Dars D. Devillions: I mean, it **_**is**_** a real Harry the Hufflepuff story. By writing the story and naming it this way, it becomes a real story. Also, my username isn't anything close to BajaB, so there's that, too.**

* * *

The next days and weeks were fascinating. Harry was constantly amazed with how much there was to learn now and how much he knew there would be to learn later. Classes proved to be real challenges, especially since the amount of homework expected for each one was easily as much a week's worth from his primary school. Harry tended to breakfast with his Housemates and then have dinner with either Ron or Hermione, making friends wherever he went. Draco Malfoy seemed to still be smarting from the Crumpling and stayed away from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but Harry saw him plotting at his cronies more than a few times.

Ron felt he was adapting to his new House as well as could be expected. His little group of misfits had been out-performing their peers in classes, resulting in those four being responsible for approximately 80% of the points gained by Slytherin first years. This was a double-edged sword as it forced the upper years to take them seriously, however it also forced the upper years to take them seriously. The group, and Ron in particular, began feeling the need to perform in a Big Way, to assert themselves as Powerful. Ron had a few feelers out for this, the most promising coming from a conversation he'd had with his twin brothers.

"So, Ickle Ronniekins is in Slytherin," snarked Fred.

"Seems like a blood traitor to me," jeered George, though a smile was in his eyes.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ok, sure, if you want to play it that way." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Besides, I'm not even _in_ the inner group." He sighed despondently. "Sure would be nice if there was a way I could get back at them for how they're treating me and my friends."

Fred and George frowned, looked at each other, then brightened. "Well, Ron-" began Fred.

"We might just have a-" George continued.

"Way for you to do that," finished Fred.

Ron opened his mouth in shock. "You do? What is it?"

The twins looked at each other and snickered. "Better you not know until it all comes together."

Ron shrugged. "I suppose you two know best." He glanced around the empty hallway. "How will you contact me?"

"The Weasely cant," both Fred and George said at the same time.

Ron was eagerly anticipating what his brothers would come up with. In the meantime, he was content to simply out-perform his classmates and secretly train his three fellows.

Hermione was _loving_ her new home. Books forever and research forever and _no_ interruptions. Hermione was ecstatic to find that _finally_ she could use her mind and it directly translated into tangible phenomena. She had already read the whole of _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1_, and was working her way through the letter K. She was especially happy with one evening when the evening mail came. Ron received a scarlet letter from his mother. Hermione had read all about Howlers and absolutely despised them. Letters were quiet and intended for quiet reflection; they were _not_ intended to broadcast a singularly derisive message to all of the recipients' peers. Not only that, Howlers burned up upon completion of their message, disallowing any meaningful response in kind. The fact that Hermione had not yet found the spell for making Howlers had absolutely nothing to do with her distaste of the things.

"Oh no," Ron had said, his ears as red as the envelope smoked lightly in front of him.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"It's a Howler," explained Ron, "You only get one when someone is so mad that everyone has to know why." He gulped. "I know why it's here, I just hoped it would take longer."

"Just get it over with, mate," chimed in Justin, who was sitting on the other side of Harry, "The sooner the better."

"Ok," Ron breathed, "Here we g-"

Hermione reached across the table and casually tapped the envelope with her wand. "_Incendio._"

Ron quickly dropped the envelope as it burst into flames. The group could hear muffled yelling and something akin to crying as the scarlet paper burned and turned to ash.

There was an audible silence as everyone witness to the scene looked first to the ash on the table, and then to Hermione, who was calmly munching on toast.

She looked up. "What?" she asked primly.

Shock was etched into Ron's face. He recovered and blinked away the little bit of moisture that threatened. "You're a bloody miracle, you know that?"

Hermione smiled. "Language, Ron."

* * *

Harry's mind was buzzing with the thought of flying class. He couldn't concentrate on anything at all, especially not class. Given his slightly above average level of participation in classes normally, his teachers began to notice that he was not contributing. Most were understanding enough, but both Professor McGonagall and Snape took off points, though Snape deducted from Gryffindor again. Harry asked Hermione if she'd found anything yet, but she responded that she'd been reading up on things more valuable than Snape's strange tongue slip. Harry was just worried that he'd lose even more points if Snape figured out he'd been punishing the wrong class.

The Flying Lesson took place on the grass field in the middle of the castle. Harry was a bit disappointed that they obviously wouldn't be flying anywhere special, given that they were boxed in by castle, but Ron pointed out that flying could also mean up and over the walls. Hermione had maintained her distance from the idea of flying ever since that first night, despite Harry and Ron's pleading that it was not something to skip. They didn't let her forget that she was the only first year that didn't sign up.

The flying instructor was Madam Hooch. When Harry asked Ron in a whisper why she wasn't a Professor, Ron muttered back that it would be rude to ask.

"Welcome, students, to your first flying lesson," Madam Hooch said, her voice clipped and efficient. She lazily gestured with her wand and brooms began hovering over next to students and flopping down. "First, some rules. Do not do anything without my saying so. Should you disobey, you will be removed from the class. That is all. Any questions?" She glared imperiously around the field. Harry didn't think anyone even had time to think of any questions, let alone ask them, before Madam Hooch whirled about and walked briskly to the head of the students' two columns. "Now, stick your right hand over the broom and say 'Up!'"

There was a loud outcry of "Up!"s as all of the first years did as commanded. Harry's broom immediately jumped into his hand, leaving the skin vibrating against the contact. His, however, was one of the only brooms that did. Now, "Up!"s were being yelled at varying intensities and volumes as the students were trying more and more desperately to get their brooms into their hands. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco sneering at his broom and it lazily drifting into his hand. Ron, on his third try, got the broom to smack into his hand. After around five minutes of chaos, Madam Hooch stopped the noise with a single "Stop!" and all activity ceased. There were a few students whose brooms did not in any way move, and Madam Hooch walked up to these and instructed them to pick up the brooms by hand.

Malfoy took the opportunity to jeer. "All right there, Longbottom? Seems as though the broom's better than the Sorting Hat at telling talent."

Neville Longbottom, the boy who'd blemished Slytherin before the Sorting, went red and mumbled something.

"Quite enough of that, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Hooch snapped. She walked back to her place at the front of the two columns. "Right, now, swing your right leg over the broom." When they all done so, she said, "Now you have mounted the broom. We-" There was a soft little pop and something that looked like a living caricature of a child, but with leather instead of skin appeared next to Madam Hooch. It whispered to her and looked anxiously around at the other students. Madam Hooch sighed and nodded. "All right," she addressed the class, "There seems to be an emergency with the Quidditch supplies that I must attend to." Her eyes narrowed and Harry felt pinned to where he was standing. "Do. Not. Move."

She followed the pathetically happy creature off into a door that led to the rest of the castle. It was a testament to Madam Hooch's level of authority that it took Malfoy a full five minutes before he ran over to where Neville was standing and, taking advantage of the boy's adherence to the rules, grabbed his schoolbag. There were cries of both laughter and rage as Malfoy rummaged through the bag and quickly pulled out what looked to Harry like an ordinary football, except the colors were reversed.

Malfoy's face was twisted in delight. "Neville's got a Notary Ball!" He sneered at Neville. "Like father like son, eh Longbottom?"

Harry whispered to Ron, "What's a Notary Ball?"

Ron's scarlet ears had begun bleeding into his cheeks. "It's for reading lectures back to you. It's for helping kids with bad memories."

That was all Harry needed to hear. "Oi, Dratty Malgaze!" He sped towards Malfoy, anger bolstering his speed. He clenched the broom tight in his fist.

Malfoy turned. "Oh, Potter, you might look into getting one too, you never can seem to remember my name." He took a breath. "Draco. Malfoy."

"Right right, Flaco Palfoy." Harry wasn't used to the amount anger that was coursing through his veins. "See, Wako, sometimes things just aren't _worth_ remembering." He clapped Neville on the arm. "Neville gets that. That ball is only for things _large_ enough to pay attention to." He thought for a second. "Unlike you."

Draco's face hit that mottled color again. "P-Potter!" he sputtered, choking on anger, "F-fine!" He re-mounted his broom and took off.

Harry followed suit and only had time to hear Neville mutter, "No, don't," before he was rocketing after Malfoy.

If Harry had not been so angry, nor so frightened, he would have been able to truly revel in his first flight. He would later remember the pure bliss in being removed from the earth, the unequivocal joy of being weightless and in control. He would remember the looks of horror and amazement on the faces of his classmates. He would recall the ecstasy of _feeling_ the air currents and that _feeling_ translating into riding the wind like a hawk. He would also remember that Madam Hooch made her way back onto the pitch and was staring at him and Draco with untold fury.

In the moment, however, all Harry could see was Draco running away with his ill-gotten gains and all Harry knew was that fairness dictated he get it back. Whether through having a better broom or through sheer dumb luck, Harry found himself gaining on Malfoy. It wasn't a rapid gain, but it was steady one, and when Malfoy looked back, he blanched. Harry saw Malfoy's head shift back and forth and Harry registered that they were flying at full tilt towards a wall of the castle. Harry's heightened senses, and his proximity to his quarry, picked up a subtle shift in Malfoy's muscle tension and he _knew_ that Malfoy was going to throw the Notary Ball over his left shoulder. Harry shifted his path in anticipation of this and was in a perfect position to snag the large ball with both hands. It wasn't until he landed that he heard the screams and cheers from his peers and he realized that he'd been hanging onto the broom with just his calves during his entire descent.

* * *

Madam Hooch had been furious with Harry, but had respected that it wasn't her position to punish him, and so was taking him to his Head of House, Professor Sprout. Harry had met Professor Sprout a few times and he was fond of the dumpy, matronly witch. She made him think of warm pies and vanilla ice cream with the way she mothered all of the Hufflepuffs. More than once, she had surprised her whole house with a delicious batch of homemade chocolate chip pumpkin biscuits. Harry hadn't expected to enjoy them, but the butterscotch milk that accompanied them really brought out the subtle flavors, and Harry had eaten several. Needless to say, Harry had doubts that his sweet Head of House could effectively appear intimidating.

His doubts were utterly quashed when he entered her office.

"Mr. Potter." Professor Sprout said crisply. "Please. Sit down."

Harry caught a glimpse of Madam Hooch's approving smile before she left him to his fate. Harry sat in a deceptively comfortable chair and heard the door slam behind him. Professor Sprout was looking at him with roughly the same face with which Aunt Petunia regarded a muddy footprint. Harry's throat was suddenly dry and everything around the room became fascinating. As he looked at a picture of Professor Sprout with no-doubt some famous Herbologist, both of whom were frowning at him, Harry decided that he was justified in his actions. It was not, perhaps, the most rational thought at the time, but he had it nonetheless.

"So, Professor," Harry started.

"No, Mr. Potter," cut in Professor Sprout. "Tell me what happened."

Harry, again believing that he was justified, told the tale. He watched Professor Sprout's face the whole time, looking for some twinkle of approval, but finding none. As he finished, Professor Sprout shifted in her seat.

After some time of silence, Professor Sprout spoke, "Harry, you have to understand that I'm now in a terrible position."

Harry's head jerked back in shock.

"See," she continued, "I completely approve of what you did, but I have to punish you somehow." She pursed her lips and viewed Harry's optimistic confusion. "How would you help me in this predicament, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Give me a punishment that's actually fun and not bad?"

Sprout nodded. "Yep." She leaned back in her padded chair. "So, how should I punish you, Harry?"

* * *

"You're the Hufflepuff Keeper?!" Ron asked loudly over dinner.

Harry, whose grin threatened to split his face, nodded. "First in, how long was it again?"

Hermione huffed, "Over a hundred years, Harry. We all remember."

Harry nodded. "That's what it was." He frowned. "Whatever happened after I did all that awesome stuff, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "Hooch tried to keep the class going, but everyone kept loudly whispering about what you did. She eventually gave it up as a bad job and sent everyone back in."

Harry grimaced. "So you didn't get to fly? I'm sorry, mate."

Ron shook his head. "After all that, she wasn't going to let anyone else into the air. Don't worry yourself."

Harry frowned. "What happened to Malfoy and Neville?"

"Well, Malfoy pitched a fit about how you _cheated_ and how you _couldn't be that good_ and all that tripe." Ron scrunched his brow, thinking. "Neville... I think he came back with everyone. He looked down, though."

Harry scanned the Gryffindor table for the diminutive Longbottom. "I don't see him over there. What d'you suppose-"

There was a crash as the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Professor Quirrel came running in. "TROLL," he gasped, "IN THE DUNGEON." He took a great breath. "Thought you ought to know." He collapsed in a heap.

There was a moment of silence before pandemonium reigned.

Harry saw Dumbledore stand and aim his wand. Suddenly, there was no sound from anyone in the Great Hall.

"Good," Dumbledore said, "Now." He looked around the room. "Students will follow their prefects to their dormitories. The teachers shall accompany me in sallying forth against the troll." He gave the most solemn "pip pip" Harry had ever heard.

There was a silent scraping as students all stood up from the benches and grouped around their prefects. Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore apparently released the Silencing Spell and subdued whispering permeated the Hall. Harry, Ron, and Hermione grouped together just outside the Great Hall. Harry noticed that Professor Quirrel, though apparently unconscious, twitched and whimpered as he ran past.

"We have to find Neville," Harry said, his face set.

"No," said Hermione, "We have to go to our Common Rooms with our prefects."

Ron nodded.

"No," Harry said, "He could be anywhere. There are bathrooms right next to the dungeons." Ron and Hermione frowned in confusion. "Oh come on, where would you two go to cry?"

Ron and Hermione nodded at the rationale, though both looked a little nervous.

"Who's better to look than us?" asked Harry. He cut through Hermione's answer. "We're the best in our year and we're the only ones who know that Neville is missing."

Ron and Hermione deflated and looked at each other.

"Is this what we get for being friends with the Boy Who Lived?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "Probably." She sighed. "Let's just get it over with."

* * *

It didn't take too long to find Neville Longbottom, who was indeed in the bathroom near the dungeon. It took a lot longer, however, to figure out what had happened in that bathroom. The three walked in to find Neville drenched in troll blood, wearing the Sorting Hat and holding a gleaming silver sword. The look on his face showed just as much shock as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were feeling. It was a testament to just how strange the whole scene was that it took Harry a good minute and a half to look for the troll's body.

Harry retched at the sight. He didn't really know what he was expecting, given the state Neville was in. He nudged Ron and gestured towards the carcass. Ron paled and nudged Hermione. Hermione shrank back from it, her eyes large. Harry reached out a hand and gripped her shoulder, and she clutched at his hand.

Harry was the first to recover from the troll's carcass and turned towards Neville who was standing with the sword in both hands, tensed and ready for the next strike. "Neville, are you ok?"

Neville started and looked at Harry with wild eyes. When he recognized that Harry was a child and not another troll, Neville relaxed. "Yeah, thanks, Harry."

There was brief moment of Harry looking at Neville with concerned eyes, and Neville shrugging, before the door to the bathroom burst open and Dumbledore sallied forth into the small room. He was flanked by Professors Snape and McGonagall, wands raised and shimmering, and Harry could barely see Professor Flitwick arriving and positioning himself under and behind Dumbledore. After a moment for the professors to gauge the situation, Dumbledore sheathed his wand. He surveyed the students with a critical eye.

"Neville, I shall require you in my office presently." Dumbledore's voice was resonant in the bathroom. He turned on his heel and left, quickly followed by the other professors, though Snape definitely sneered at Harry before he was gone.

The four students glanced around at each other. There didn't seem to be anything to say, really.

"I wonder what 'presently' means," said Harry at the same time that Ron said, "Can I take credit for this?"

"Ron!" reprimanded Hermione at the same time that Neville said, "Soon, I think."

"Wait, what?" asked all four at the same time.

There was a moment of silence.

"Ok," said Harry, "Ron, go."

"Can I take credit for this?" asked Ron. Hermione swatted him on the arm.

Neville tilted his head, inadvertently dripping some blood onto his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Like," said Ron, puzzling, "I don't want to take this away from you, but if it could be spread that I orchestrated this, I'd really appreciate it."

Neville shrugged. "Sure. I'm just glad it didn't hurt anything."

Harry gripped Neville's shoulder, doing his best to avoid the blood puddles. "When do I get to hear this story?"

Neville gave Harry a shy smile. "It's not much of a story." He glanced around. "Anyone know where the Headmaster's office is?"

* * *

**AN: And we've reached the second little story that I'll be writing: Neville vs The Troll. Need any clarification? Think I did something stupid/wrong? Are you like geetac and you like the chapter? Let me know! Reviews make me think and write.**


	8. Chapter 8: Quidditch and Conflict

**AN: So this week got a bit busy, I was DMing two different DnD campaigns and the prep for them took up a lot of my writing time. Either way, here it is!**

**Review Replies:**

**Faintshadows: Yep! It might have even been on purpose. ;)**

**Geetac's Liked Chapter Counter: 7**

**Kairan1979: Incendio is utterly underused in the books, despite being a first year spell. I though that was silly. And yeah! Help is always available at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.**

**Guest: :D That means so much! Thank you so much for posting that, it really warmed my heart.**

**Reader AZ: _ Yeah, totally fixed that. As for being Keeper, my rationale is that Harry's quick and really observant, allowing him to make up for not being large. And as for Neville, let's just say that you might not be the only one asking that question.**

* * *

A few days later, Harry was overjoyed to receive his first letter from home via Hedwig, the owl Daisy had given him on Platform 9 ¾. He was sitting in the Great Hall on a Saturday, breakfasting late as usual after a late night of sitting around the Common Room and chatting with his Housemates. When the daily mail had come flying through the Great Hall that first day, Harry had been so bleary and tired that he hadn't really even given it a thought. Since then, however, he had come to appreciate how incredible owl service really was.

Harry was just polishing off a cup of coffee, he never really got the hang of pumpkin juice for breakfast, when the mail came flying in. Hannah, across the table from him, barely gave a glance towards the incoming birds, before turning back to her toast and bacon. Justin, on Harry's left, did not even spare that much, concentrating solely on his fried tomato and baked beans. Harry, since the incident in Flying Class, had begun to adore watching creatures in flight. Not the flapping so much, but the soaring from the upper window, down into the Great Hall was a majestic descent that Harry found inspiring. Before long, however, he spotted Hedwig amongst all of the other owls and nudged Justin.

"Hey, I think I see my owl," Harry said excitedly.

"Mate, you don't have an owl," Justin said tiredly.

"He does so," interjected Hannah, "I saw his sister give it to him."

Harry allowed the mistake to pass. It was close enough. "Yeah, I've never gotten anything from Hedwig before. I wonder what it is."

The large snowy owl landed in front of Harry and crooned at him. Harry reached out his hand and untied the paper around Hedwig's leg. He opened the envelope and began reading.

"What's it say, mate?" asked Justin with his mouth full.

"Just updating me on their lives," Harry said, glancing through the letter, "Oh, they subscribed to the Daily Prophet, that's interesting."

Hannah frowned. "Why?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I assume because they want to be a part of my new world."

"But they won't understand anything because they're muggles," Hannah said, shrugging.

Harry sighed. He'd had this sort of conversation a couple of times. "They're not stupid. They can figure out what things mean and what they are. For all intents and purposes, before I got my letter, _I _was a muggle." He leaned across the table. "And who got the better grade on that last Charms homework, Hannah?"

"But you're the Boy Who Lived," squeaked Susan from beside Hannah, "Of course you're better than the rest of us at magic!"

Harry shook his head. "That's not how it works, Susan." He got up. "I'm going to go read this somewhere else."

"No, stay!" Hannah said, pouting, "I'm sorry!" She made some of the best puppy dog eyes Harry had ever seen. "Please?"

Harry was not one to be taken in by puppy dog eyes, but he would definitely concede to a master. "Fine." He leered at Hannah. "But no more talking down at my parents like that."

"Your aunt and uncle, you mean!" said Hannah, winking.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry!" Hannah, looking down at the table, "But they're not your mom and dad, so..."

_That_ was a conversation for another day. Harry sat down with his Housemates and began reading the letter again. This time, however, he didn't feel like sharing what the letter said.

* * *

"All right, we're almost there," said Cedric as he and Harry walked down to the Quidditch pitch.

Harry been overjoyed to learn that Cedric was also on the team. "Great! I'm really excited about all this."

Cedric grinned down at his protege. "It's pretty incredible that you made the team as a first year."

Harry grinned. "First in a hundred years, or so Ron tells me."

Cedric nodded. "Honestly, I'd have pegged you as a Seeker with that build of yours."

Harry shrugged. "I'm eleven. I'll grow into it."

Cedric chuckled. "I suppose you will."

The two boys crested a hill and Harry got his first glimpse of the Quidditch pitch. Six hoops on extremely tall poles faced each other surrounded by massively tall bleachers in a full circle.

"So, what does a Keeper do? Is it like football?" Harry asked.

"What's football?" asked Cedric with a raised eyebrow.

* * *

"So, Harry, is it?" asked Captain McSaint. Captain was a nickname, he explained, and Harry could call him whatever Harry wanted. When Harry thought about it, though, "Captain" was the best way to describe McSaint. He wasn't broad or tall, but he was slim and well-built, and he exuded an air of confidence and reliability. Harry immediately felt that he could trust Captain McSaint and it was clear that this opinion was shared by the whole team.

Harry nodded. "Harry Potter, Captain."

Captain smirked. "Maybe in a few years, Potter."

The rest of the team groaned.

"Anyway," said Captain, "We'll break up into the usual groups and warm up."

"Sir?" asked Cedric.

"Aye, Ced, what is it?" replied Captain.

"Well, see, Harry was raised by muggles, so..." Cedric trailed off, as though it were something embarrassing.

"Right!" said Captain, "You have no idea how to play, do you?"

Harry grinned bashfully and shook his head. "None at all, sir."

"Right," said Captain, "Well, you lot who know how to play, start warming up while I fill in Mr. Potter here."

Harry watched with interest at the rest of his team warming up. Two were tossing a ball back and forth while ducking and weaving around, two were stretching and swinging around short, wooden bats. The last, Cedric, was tossing a golf ball into the air and then snatching it out of the air.

"Right, Potter," Captain was saying, "You're the Keeper." He gestured at the hoops in the sky. "See those? Your job is to block the Quaffle from going through them."

Harry titled his head. "Quaffle?"

Captain pointed to the two teammates tossing the ball around. "That ball is the Quaffle."

Harry nodded. It seemed fairly simple. "Makes sense."

Captain grinned. "It should. Now, for the rest of the team. I, and those two lovely ladies over there," he pointed to the pair tossing the ball back and forth, "Are the Chasers. We try and get the Quaffle through the opponent's hoops." He pointed to the pair with the bats. "Those two are our Beaters. They hit the Bludgers away from our team and toward the other team."

"What's a Bludger?" Harry asked.

"Black ball about yea," Captain gestured a size about the size of a softball, "Big. They chase after you and try to hit you off your broom." When he saw Harry's horrified face, he said, "Oh don't worry, our Beaters are top notch. Besides, they tend to aim for Chasers. And finally," he pointed to Cedric, "We have our Seeker. He catches the Snitch and ends the game."

Harry frowned. "So the game doesn't end until the Snitch is caught?"

Captain nodded. "That's right. So, as you can guess, having a good Seeker is vital to a team."

"What if it's a tie when the Snitch is caught?" asked Harry.

"Tie goes to the Seeker who caught the Snitch." replied Captain. "Now, are you ready to warm up?"

Harry nodded, grinning. Captain waved him towards the two girls tossing the Quaffle to each other. Harry walked over to them, nervous anticipation welling up inside of him. He had expectations on him and he was excited to prove himself as worthy of being the youngest Quidditch House Team member in a hundred years.

"Hey!" Harry said as he walked up to the girls. "I'm supposed to warm up with you?"

The taller of the girls nodded. "That's right. I'm Tara, it's nice to meet you, Harry." She smiled and offered a handshake which Harry took.

"I'm Emily," said the shorter of the two and also extended a hand for Harry to shake.

"Nice to meet you both," said Harry, grinning widely. "So what are we doing?"

Tara raised an eyebrow. "Catch." She shot the ball at Harry.

Harry barely raised his hands in time to snag the ball, but it still slammed into his chest.

Harry coughed. "Thanks."

Tara chuckled. "Nice." She glanced at Emily. "He's pretty good, huh?"

Emily was looking at Harry critically. "Maybe. We'll see how he does in the air."

"All right, team!" called Captain, "Let's get up there and run some drills!"

* * *

"It's ok, Harry," Cedric was saying, "It was your first time flying with us. You'll get better."

Harry was mortified. "Don't sugar coat it, Ced, I was terrible." He sniffed, willing his tears to stay put.

Cedric squeezed Harry's shoulder. "It's not about that, Harry. It's ok, you'll-"

"I didn't stop a single ball, Ced." Harry looked at his mentor, scared and angry, "I let them all in. I'm terrible and I shouldn't be on the team!"

"No one's saying that but you, Harry," came Captain's voice from the doorway to the locker room. "And, to be fair, you know the least about Quidditch out of all of us."

"Yeah," echoed Cedric, "Our last Keeper was just as inexperienced when he joined and he went on to be the best Keeper in the school, excepting Oliver Wood."

Harry looked up at Cedric, then Captain. "Are you just saying that?"

Captain shook his head. "And he joined as a third year. You've still got two years on him. You'll be miles ahead of where he was in third year."

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "All right then. I'll do my best."

Captain came over and sat on his other side. He clapped a hand on Harry's other shoulder. "That's all we're asking, Harry."

**Meanwhile**

Ron was walking from his lunch in the Great Hall to the abandoned classroom he and his group used for training when he saw a strange yellow mark on a wall, underneath a portrait. Ron sighed. He walked up to it and frowned at it. It, no doubt, was supposed to read "Summons," but either Fred or George had messed it up so badly that Ron had to assume its meaning based on context. It was Fred, Ron decided, he had the worse of the two brothers' writing ability.

Ron reached out his hand and touched the marking. It immediately shifted into a different symbol, this one much easier to read, and Ron set off down the hallway. Excitement quickly overcame his annoyance at the botching of the Weasely Cant. It was time to hear the prank Fred and George planned on using Ron for. Though claiming credit for the troll had done some good for Ron and his group, it wasn't enough. That was mostly due to the fact that it had undeniably been Neville that actually killed the thing, despite Ron's insistence that the whole plan was his idea originally.

In any case, this would be the thing that cemented Ron's, and thus his group's, station in Slytherin House. Ron was eagerly anticipating what prank his devious brothers would devise. Ron was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he did not even blink when he shot a Crumpling Curse at the water balloon Peeves was about to lob at him. Ron absently jumped one of the false steps on a staircase and ducked through a fake door that led him, somehow, to the first floor Transfiguration room, where he was to meet his two brothers.

Sure enough, there on the door was the same symbol that had told Ron where to go in the first place. Ron again reached out his hand and touched the symbol. It quickly morphed into a laughing face and Ron walked into the empty room. He glanced around, but could see no sign of the infamous Weasely twins.

"Fred? George?" Ron called, to no avail.

There was a heavy silence in the room that set Ron's nerves on edge. His immediate thought was that it was a trap, but there was no way that the brothers taught the Weasely Cant to anyone else. Ron drew his wand.

"_Lumos Solem_!" said Ron, causing a bright light to flash around the room.

"Aghh!" cried several voices, and Ron was treated to the utterly bizarre sight of several desks growing arms and shielding their eyes, which also appeared.

Ron immediately turned to leave, but heard someone behind him call, "_Colloportus_!" and Ron heard the door squelch shut.

With a heavy sigh, Ron turned to face the room and saw no less than five Slytherins, all of whom were at least in their fifth year, advancing towards him. At their head was none other than Francis McFornal.

Ron blanched. So much for prefects helping their underclassmen. "People know I'm here," Ron said as calmly as he could. Showing fear to this lot would only hurt him, after all. "They'll miss me." Ron frantically thought of what he could do to get out.

As for what happened to Fred and George...well, that came later, as long as Ron survived this encounter.

"Oh, I'm sure of it," sneered McFornal, "But the question is, Weasely, who really gives a damn?"

"My friends do," said Ron, doing his best to keep his voice level and succeeding surprisingly well, "And I have friends who you don't want as enemies."

"Like who?" asked McFornal, feigning terror, "Potty, the Brat Who Lived? Your little gang of Mudblood nobodies who can't even look me straight in the eye? No," McFornal snarled, "I ain't scared of your little friends."

Ron gulped, quietly somehow, "Still, you somehow need four others to help take out little old me?" Ron shook his head. "Seems pretty pathetic, McFornal."

McFornal shook his head pityingly. "This ain't Gryffindor, Weasely. In Slytherin, assurance is never pathetic."

Ron nodded. "True enough." He smirked. "_Commotionis Magnae_!"

A shrill shrieking sound echoed through the room and the unprepared Slytherins shrank away from the sound. There was a loud smacking sound against the door behind Ron. The door held. Ron began alternating _Lumos Solem _and _Commotionis Magnae_ to ensure maximum confusion and chaos. Another loud crack against the door, yet the door held. A couple of the Slytherins began recovering and aiming their wands at Ron. There was a final smash against the door and Lurtz came bursting in amidst a shower of wood and dust.

"You called, Mr. Ron, sir?" Lurtz asked, casually surveying the scene.

Ron canceled his spells, immensely enjoying the looks on his assailants' faces. "I did, Lurtz. Tell me," he mimed thinking, "What is it that your family does?"

"We hench, sir," replied Lurtz with a proud smile.

"Would you be good at, say, fighting, Lurtz?" Ron asked.

"Aye, sir, we would at that," said Lurtz with a curt nod.

"Do these gentlemen in front of you seem particularly pleasant, Lurtz?" Ron gestured to the utterly confused boys in front of him.

"Let me stop you there, sir," said Lurtz, "I see where you're going with this." He cracked his knuckles menacingly. "And I'm way ahead of you."

Lurtz dashed towards the nearest enemy, a freckled red headed boy, and rammed a fist into the boy's stomach. The boy gave a winded gasp and looked at Lurtz with fear. With lazy push from Lurtz, the boy landed on the floor of the classroom and immediately curled into a tight ball.

Lurtz smiled menacingly at the rest of the older students. "See, Mr. Weasely doesn't take kindly to being threatened." His mouth straightened and his eyes narrowed. "See that it doesn't happen again."

Some of the remaining boys seemed to be one loud noise from bolting.

"Or what?" asked McFornal with an arrogant sneer on his face, "You can't reach me before I cut you down with my wand."

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" called Ron.

The boy directly next to McFornal toppled over, frozen in place.

McFornal quickly glanced back at Ron. Ron took _immense_ pride in the shock he saw there.

"See, Prefect," Ron drawled, "Now there's two threats to your one." He shrugged. "Maybe next time bring competent underlings with you." He nodded at Lurtz. "I always do."

Lurtz's face glowed with pride, while McFornal's reddened with anger.

Ron walked towards his prefect, his wand leveled at the older boy. McFornal's eyes darted back and forth between Ron and Lurtz, no doubt looking for any kind of way out. However, between Ron's spell casting and Lurtz's physical presence, McFornal had no options.

When Ron took the wand out of the older boy's hand. "Maybe next time you'll be ready, McFornal." He turned to his loyal henchman. "What do you think, Lurtz?"

Lurtz shrugged. "Maybe if he actually thought out his plans."

McFornal sighed. "How did you know, Weasely? No one knew that we cracked their code."

Ron breathed a mental sigh of relief that his brothers hadn't been...pushed for information. "I didn't." He shrugged. "Lurtz feels it necessary to always be ready to protect me. Something about it being-"

"The First Rule of Henching: 'Protect the Master,'" quoted Lurtz happily. "That's right, sir." He looked at Ron significantly. "Maybe you'll be taking my advice more readily now, eh sir?"

Ron laughed and clapped Lurtz on the shoulder as they left the room. "Perhaps I will, Lurtz. Spot on entrance, by the way."

"You think so, sir?" asked Lurtz, "I felt it was a bit-" The two were soon out of earshot of McFornal, leaving through the utterly destroyed door.

McFornal chuckled to himself in appreciation. "Damn it!" he cursed.

"What?" asked one of his apparently useless friends.

McFornal sighed. "Weasely still has my wand."

* * *

The next few days were difficult for Harry. He had been so sure that Quidditch would be something he could succeed on his own terms at; finding out that he had such a long way to go was tough to bear. He expressed his fears to Cedric, who could only tell him that things would get better, and that he would talk to Captain about extra training for Harry.

The next day, Captain found Harry in the Common Room. "Listen, Harry, I want you to sit with me and Cedric at the opening game."

Harry eagerly agreed. He figured anything that would help him get better at Quidditch was something to leap at.

The day of the match, Harry was sitting in between Cedric and Captain, perhaps halfway up the bleachers. It was hard to see the players from where they were, but Harry found himself rather more able to follow the action than he had thought. The game really was pretty simple.

"Wood's the best thing on the whole team. They had to scramble for a Seeker this year so I don't expect they'll be too much of a threat," Captain was saying, "That said, a good Keeper makes the opponent Seeker's job bloody difficult."

Cedric shook his head. "You've got that right."

At Harry's confused look, Cedric continued, "So, the game ends when I catch the Snitch, yeah?"

Harry nodded.

"And the Keeper is the one who dictates the opponent's scoring, right?" Cedric was cut off as Gryffindor scored a goal and the crowd cheered.

"By blocking it?" Harry asked as everyone sat down.

Cedric nodded. "Right. Chasers dictate our goals, but you dictate the opponent's goals." He stretched his neck. "So you and I have to be on the same page on when to end the game." He shrugged. "If I end it too early, we could lose."

Harry nodded. He watched the game for a while, admiring the dexterity of everyone on the brooms. He hoped he'd get that good someday. He glanced over and saw a hugely complicated diagram that was constantly shifting around, with lines going every which way, on Captain's lap. Captain was glancing rapidly from the diagram to the game, muttering to himself.

"Goal," he whispered a second before Gryffindor scored their fourth goal of the game.

"What's that?" asked Harry, after the cheering had calmed down.

"It's a little thing Flitwick helped me with," said Captain. "It records the movements of the players in real time and lets me see formations easier." He touched the tip of his wand to the page and then lifted it to his head. "I can also stick formations that it records into my head."

Harry's mouth gaped. "That's incredible! How-" He found that he didn't know how to finish the question.

Captain glanced at Harry and smirked. "Are you watching Wood?"

Harry nodded, snapping his eyes back up to the hovering speck. "He's really good."

Cedric barked a laugh. "You got that right. He's the best Keeper Hogwarts has seen in years."

"Harry," said Captain, "Most Keepers have around a fifty to fifty-five percent save rate."

Harry frowned. "That's it? That seems low."

Captain shrugged. "Once you're three or so goals up, you don't really need to save more than that." He pointed at the Slytherin Keeper. "See Bletchley up there?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure if Slytherins just rubbed him the wrong way, but he didn't think the boy was any good.

"He's terrible," continued Captain, "His save rate is under forty-five percent. He relies far too heavily on his above average Chasers."

Harry nodded. That seemed to make sense.

"That works to a point," Captain said, pointing at the Slytherin Chasers, "But when you come up against Wood..." he paused and Harry looked at him.

"What?" asked Harry, "What happens against Wood?"

"See, Wood doesn't agree with not trying once you're ahead," explained Cedric, "He tries to block every goal, no matter what."

"Surely that would lower his save rate, wouldn't it?" asked Harry, tilting his head.

Captain smirked. "No." He glanced down at Harry. "And this is why I want you to study him, Harry. I want you to do the same thing." He looked back up and zeroed in on Wood. "Block everything."

Harry nodded. "What's his save rate?"

Captain looked at Harry, amusement in his eyes. "Eighty-five percent."

**AN: Yay! I'm changing Quidditch to make it more strategic, but don't expect a lot of Quidditch sections. I'll do them if they matter to the plot, like the first one will, but I'll probably just report the results otherwise. If you all really like the way I write them, I can do them in between years, I suppose, but I have no intention of writing them at this point. Review and stuff! Thanks!**

**Other note: I'll be starting a novel soon which may or may not cut into Harry the Hufflepuff. I'll strive mightily to keep to at the very least once a week, but we'll see. Also, if you want to be part of that beta team, PM me and we'll talk.**


	9. Chapter 9: Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw

**AN: Ughh, long week, life came in and made me sad so writing was a little hard to start.**

**Review Replies: Kairan1979: Yeah! I see Keeper as more of a work-based position than Seeker, which seems more talent-based.**

* * *

Harry was breakfasting with Stephen and Felicity one morning. He had become increasingly annoyed with Hannah of late and had decided to sit with more mature friends. Felicity was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet and enjoying a plate of eggs; Stephen was drinking a goblet of strong tea and munching on some toast. Harry was just beginning truly understand how loose the definition of "breakfast" was at Hogwarts and was tucking in to a large bowl of macaroni and cheese, accompanied by a hunk of rye bread.

Harry glanced up at Felicity who had just turned a page. He snapped his fingers. "Hey! Did you read the article about the break-in at Gringotts?"

Felicity closed her paper and tilted her head. "That wouldn't be recent, would it?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it was closer to September."

Stephen's eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh yeah! Everyone went bonkers over that." He shook his head. "Diagon Alley was in an uproar."

"So that's how you say it," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, what about it?" asked Felicity.

Harry looked up. "What did they get? Anything?"

Stephen shook his head. "That's the crazy thing. The thief went in, didn't steal anything, then escaped again, completely scott free." He shrugged. "Never anything happened like that before. Goblins were furious." He shivered at the thought.

Harry frowned. "Why would they leave without stealing anything? Seems sort of counter-productive."

"The only thing the goblins would tell anyone," Felicity said, leaning in, "Was that the vault that was broken into was emptied earlier that day." She sat back. "That's a stroke of luck, if there ever was one."

Harry nodded and looked back down at his slowly congealing breakfast. What would someone steal at Gringotts? Harry remembered the chilling words inscribed on the crystalline doors and shuddered. The person must have really needed what was in that vault. "What sort of things do people hide in Gringotts?" Harry asked.

Stephen shrugged. "Oh tons of things. Anything you want kept forever safe." He tapped his plate with his fork. "That's why it's such a big deal, you see. Gringotts is never broken in to; maybe this once in the past four hundred years or something."

Harry nodded.

"But there'll be just about anything in Gringotts," Felicity said, "Light, Dark, Gray, money, items," she leaned in again and whispered conspiratorially, "I even heard a Dark Minister for Magic kept the bodies of his political opponents in Gringotts." She leaned back again. "So it's anyone's guess at what the thief was looking for. Goblins allow everything and anything that give them power over wizards."

Harry's eyes widened. Hagrid had said that only the Darkest of the Dark would dare to try rob Gringotts, and if there were extremely Dark things in the bank... The implications were awful. Harry suddenly felt cold, despite the relatively comfortable Great Hall. He felt like having a conversation with Hermione and Ron about this.

"So, Harry," Felicity was saying, "Why do you care?"

Harry looked up. "That happened just after I left Diagon Alley."

"You know," said Ron as he and Harry walked out of Transfiguration, "I get that McGonagall knows her stuff, and I trust her completely, but there's no way I'll ever eat a banana that used to be a bone." He shivered. "Just feels weird."

Harry nodded, looking at the oddly straight banana in his hand. It certainly _felt_ like a banana. He turned it over and looked at all of the sides. Certainly looked like a banana. He began to peel it. Certainly _was _a banana. Harry lifted it to his nose and smelled it. Well, he supposed, bananas didn't really _have_ a smell, did they? But it smelled like a banana well enough.

"Potter!" came Malfoy's voice from behind Harry.

Harry turned.

"You-!" Malfoy paused. "Um. What are you doing?"

Harry glanced at the banana. "Well, Malloy, I seem to be smelling a particularly odorless banana."

Malfoy took a breath. "Uh, I, well," he sneered, "Clearly you're just as _daft_ as I predicted when I first saw your-"

Harry turned again, to walk away. His uncle had always told him that when people were talking nonsense, it was always best to walk away. That your own sense was the only thing that would suffer when-

And then Harry was completely unable to stand. He fell to the ground in what could only be described as a flailing mass of arms and legs. Harry was strangely aware of how all of his limbs were completely unresponsive. He undoubtedly fell hard, but it didn't hurt. Even after he landed on the ground, his legs were still swinging around. Harry sighed. Getting up was completely impossible now.

"Weasely," Malfoy was drawling, "It seems your friend is unable to even put up any kind of a fight. Maybe you should-"

"_Epxoimise_!" Harry shouted. His legs stopped moving, which was good. They were, in fact, stuck to the floor, which was bad. Harry looked up at Draco. "Maybe next time you actually finish me, Mankoy." He pointed his wand at Malfoy. "_Epoximise_!" Malfoy turned red and tried to run at Harry. Unfortunately, Malfoy's feet were stuck to the floor and he pitched over, though managed to stay up.

Malfoy got his bearings and pointed his wand at Harry. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Harry managed to twist his torso around the jet of light and aimed his wand at Malfoy's feet. "_Diffindo_!"

A small hole appeared in Malfoy's shoe and his eyes filled with tears. "Ow!" He took a deep breath, though his lower lip was trembling. "Th-that hurt, Potter!"

"What. Is. This?" Professor McGonagall walked out of her classroom.

Draco took this opportunity to burst into tears.

Harry was whisked to McGonagall's office faster than he could have said Fizzing Whizbee. McGonagall flew through the castle, not quite literally, through walls, avoiding doors, and actively changing staircases. Harry tried to remember the paths and secrets he no doubt learned, but somehow all of the information left his head the moment he tried to hold it in. With a glance, he saw Malfoy similarly helpless, also at the mercy of the stern Deputy Headmistress.

When they arrived at her office, Professor McGonagall approached the door and tapped with a finger. A lock clicked and the door sprang open, saying, "Welcome back, Professor McGonagall," and "Hooo boy, you lot are in trouble!" when Harry and Draco walked in. Professor McGonagall's office was sparse, yet comfortable. There were a few portraits on the walls, a few chairs, and a well-made desk, which Professor McGonagall now sat behind.

"Have a seat," she said crisply.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other and hurriedly sat.

"I have no desire to hear what happened," Professor McGonagall said, bridging her fingers, "As I'm sure you'll both just blame the other. So, this is my decision. You will both serve detention this Saturday evening with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest."

Harry sighed. That didn't seem too bad.

"Also," Professor McGonagall continued, "You will be reported to your Heads of House and will accept their punishments as well, on top of losing twenty points apiece to your Houses."

"I say, Professor!" exploded Malfoy.

"Silence, Mr. Malfoy and pray it isn't more," said Professor McGonagall, instantly silencing Draco.

Harry chuckled to himself. He'd have to learn that little trick sometime. Draco, chastised, sat gloomily in his chair.

Professor McGonagall was glaring down at the two boys. Her eyes were pinning Harry to his chair, feeling the angry heat of her gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, she sighed and relinquished them from her gaze. "You _do _realize the gravity of what you did?" She glanced from Harry to Draco.

"Well, we used magic outside of class, right?" asked Harry.

Professor McGonagall sighed again and shook her head. "Well, you did that, true, but far worse..." She trailed off. "Malfoy, this will no-doubt be familiar, but Potter did not grow up in our world." She turned to Harry. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, what do you know of the politics of our world?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing at all, ma'am." He thought for a second. "Well, I know there's a Minister and he can be Dark and hide bodies in Gringotts."

"That was never confirmed!" yelled Draco reflexively.

Harry blinked and Professor McGonagall opened her mouth. After a moment, she closed it again and cleared her throat.

"Harry," she said and he turned back to her, "Despite your young age, your aptitude in your studies leads me to believe that you are intelligent."

Well that was the first time Harry had ever known "slightly above average" to bestow an "aptitude," but he wasn't about to correct Professor McGonagall.

"And I hope you listen to me carefully, both of you," Professor McGonagall leaned forward, "You two cannot be seen to be fighting here at Hogwarts."

There was a pregnant silence in the air.

Harry broke it. "Why?"

"I will not bore you with the specific alliances, but suffice it to say that the political landscape cannot withstand a conflict between Potter and Malfoy." Professor McGonagall sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Normally, Harry, it would not be an issue, but as you are the last Potter alive, you act for your House." She sighed. "However, due to your minority, you cannot wield the power granted to the Head of a House."

Harry frowned. That seemed unfair. He decided to ask Hermione to research that.

"And you, Malfoy," Professor McGonagall continued, "You should know better. You know the political world better than the vast majority of students."

Malfoy had the grace to try and look ashamed, though the face looked fake to Harry.

"So, boys," said Professor McGonagall, "Do try to not curse each other anymore, ok?" The look she gave them made it clear they were dismissed.

Harry and Draco walked out of the office, not looking at each other.

Outside, Harry turned to Draco. "I won't curse you if you don't curse me." He offered hand to shake.

Draco turned and smirked. "_Epoximise._"

* * *

That evening at dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were dining together at the Ravenclaw table. Ron firmly denied the Slytherin table as Malfoy would no doubt be gloating over his "victory" against "Scion Potter" and that would be annoying. Ron and Hermione were content to discuss their days and complain about their homework, but Harry was lost in thought as he absently ate a fried peanut butter sandwich.

"Oi, Harry," said Ron, "Usually it's Hermione who's in a thought funk. What's bothering you, mate?"

Harry glanced up. "It's Malfoy. He _did_ win today."

"Only because he shot you in the back," said Hermione, comfortingly, "Anyone would lose to that."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose." He sighed.

"Besides," said Ron with a clap on Harry's shoulder, "Didn't Professor McGonagall say that you're not allowed to fight anymore?"

"Something else happened." Harry took a breath. "After we left the office, I offered a hand to shake on a truce and Malfoy Stuck me to the floor. That's probably what he's gloating about."

Hermione's eyes went wide with horror at the injustice.

"He did hint at something like that," Ron muttered.

"So," Harry said, getting their attention again, "I need a favor."

"Anything, mate," said Ron.

"Indeed," agreed Hermione.

"I need to learn new spells," Harry said.

Harry was sitting in an unused classroom, his wand in his hand, looking dubiously at Hermione and her tower of books.

"These will hold the key to all of your problems, Harry." Hermione gestured to the books on the room's podium. "Here are any number of spells you need."

"Um," Harry began, "Maybe start with movement impeding spells? That's what Malfoy hit me with."

Hermione tilted her head, "Which one?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't hear the name, but my legs went all wibbly wobbly."

Hermione snapped her fingers. "Of course! The Jelly Legs Jinx!"

Harry also snapped his fingers. "That sounds silly!"

"_Locomotor Wibbly_," Hermione said, "Write that down."

Harry scrawled "Jelly Legs Jinx-_Locomotor Wibbly_" on his parchment.

"As it happens, _locomotor_ is the prefix for another movement impairing curse: _Locomotor Mortis_, the Leg-Locking Curse." Hermione paced around the podium as she spoke, giving Harry the distinct impression that she was imagining herself a professor. Harry quickly wrote down the spell.

Over the next hour or so, Hermione recited spell after spell and Harry dutifully wrote them down, though his eyes began to glaze over after perhaps fifteen minutes. Hermione kept talking and Harry kept writing, but what he was writing didn't matter and had no meaning. Hermione kept pacing and Harry heard the footsteps and some strange scratching sound, oh that was his quill managing to keep writing.

Harry snapped awake.

"And _Snufflifors_ rounds that out," Hermione was saying.

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, "What did that last one do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It turns the target into a mouse."

Harry chuckled. "_Snufflifors_." He put a little star next to the spell.

"And now, we get the exciting part: the fire spells." Hermione's eyes lit up.

Harry sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Well, you can just use spells you know on different targets," Ron said during History of Magic, blatantly ignoring both the ghostly Professor Binns and Hermione's outraged _shhhhh_. "Like instead of Levitating something, you can just Levitate them. They won't expect that."

Harry nodded. "Like you Levitate their trainer or something?"

Ron shrugged. "Or their hair. That hurts more than a bit, let me tell you."

Harry frowned. "How do you know?"

"My little group tests our spell ideas on each other." Ron shuddered. "We've uncovered stuff, Harry. Painful stuff."

Harry tilted his head. "Like what?"

"You know the Knockback Jinx?" Ron was staring at the surface of his desk, no doubt remembering horrors that Harry could not even comprehend.

"Yeah," Harry said, curious.

"You can use that on someone standing against a wall, or lying on the ground," Ron's voice grew hoarse, "Poor Lurtz. He said it was all right, but I just don't know."

Harry blanch at the implications. Maybe he wouldn't be using that _particular_ idea.

* * *

It was Saturday. Harry was pale and taking quick shallow breaths all through breakfast. Even the Forbidden Forest with Draco could not compare with the terror of actually flying in a Quidditch game. All of Harry's team had told him that he was improving, getting better, actually blocking goals now, but they were just saying that. He knew that Tara still chuckled at him and that Emily gave him sidelong looks.

Yet today was the day and Harry's breakfast was stubbornly roiling in his stomach and his hands refused to stop shaking.

"Harry, it'll be ok," Felicity was saying, barely being heard over Harry's monstrously loud heartbeat, "I heard from Cedric that you're doing better than anyone expected."

More words that didn't mean anything.

"Yeah!" said Stephen, uncharacteristically chipper for some reason, "Emily was practically glowing when I asked her about practice the other night."

Harry sighed. He appreciated their attempts to make him feel better, but honestly what was the point? He'd be terrible and his team would lose and everything would be bad. He'd have to tell his parents and Daisy that he was a bad player and then they'd be disappointed in him too.

"C'mon mate," said Ron, walking over, "Eat some food. You look downright awful."

Harry manage to nibble on some toast, but couldn't bring himself to swallow it.

Cedric walked over, looking calm and confident, and tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Time to go, Mr. Keeper." He grinned brightly at Harry.

Harry, with the air of a man condemned, slowly stood. He somberly rested a hand on Ron's shoulder and gazed forlornly into his eyes. Harry looked at the two older students who would, no doubt, never want to see him again after today, and tried to smile at them, but it was really more of a grimace. Harry and Cedric walked out of the Great Hall and out the doors, towards the Quidditch Pitch. Cedric kept an encouraging hand on Harry's shoulder the whole way, and kept up a steady stream of encouragement as well. As they entered the full locker room, Harry felt marginally better.

Everyone changed in silence, focusing on their game plan. The Chasers were thinking about their formations, the Beaters reminding themselves who to aim for on the opposing team, Cedric was no doubt thinking about flight tactics in his constant battle against the opposing Seeker. Only Harry was left to think about nothing. He had no formations, no battle plan, just a whole lot of nothing except worrying that the enemy Chasers would be better than him. Faster than him. Harry felt his stomach lurch, but nothing came of it.

"All right, everyone," said Captain once everyone was wearing their Quidditch uniforms, "It's just about time to go out there."

"Speech!" called out one of the Beaters and everyone chuckled, Harry included. It felt good to laugh.

"Right." Captain looked around the room dryly. "Ok, so. Well." There was a pause. "You lot know I'm no good at this." There was another round of laughter and Harry found himself grinning. "So, it's Ravenclaw out there. This shouldn't be anything near difficult if we stick to our training and our formations." Nods around the room. "See, look at Harry!"

Everyone did.

"If Harry can be smiling before his first game, that's a lot better than any of us did." Captain winked at Harry. "And if our newest member is _that_ confident, hell, we all should be!" He punctuated the end of his speech with fist thrust in the air. There was a roar from the whole team, and Harry felt each member pat his back before they all made their way out onto the Pitch.

It was unseasonably sunny for the middle of November, which wasn't saying much, but Captain drew back and whispered to Harry, "Careful not to let the sun get in your eyes."

Harry nodded back.

There, across the pitch was the group of Ravenclaws walking out from their changing room, and Harry noticed the roar from the crowd for the first time. He shielded his eyes with his hand and scanned around the audience. It seemed that just about everyone was there. Harry looked back down at the Ravenclaw team. He spotted the gloved Chasers, the Beaters with their bats, the slim and tiny Seeker, and lastly the large, muscled Keeper. Harry knew that he was maybe a quarter of the size of the enemy Keeper and that he must look ridiculous standing there, but a quick glance at Captain's confidence reassured Harry and made him ready to fly.

Both teams mounted their brooms as the two captains shook hands. Then Madam Hooch yelled, "Begin!" and all fourteen players rocket skyward.

Harry quickly positioned himself in front of his hoops and noticed, with a small flash of confidence, that he had made it there before his opponent. Then, remembering Captain's advice, Harry snapped his eyes away from the Keeper and scanned around, trying to find the Chasers. There!

"The Hufflepuff captain had taken possession of the Quaffle and is zooming down the field!" called out the commentator, "Man, he's really moving, isn't he? And he passes off to the lovely Tara Armstrong, who rolls a bit and manages to avoid a nicely hit Bludger! Phew, this Hufflepuff team sure has their work cut out from them- Oh! She passes to Emily Reville, pass to MacSaint, pass to Armstrong – really obvious MacSaint has been drilling this formation – and then back to Reville! She swings past another Bludger and slings it towards the left hoop! It's in!" He was immediately drowned out by ecstatic cheering and calling from the crowd.

Then, suddenly, Harry gripped his broom and trained his eyes on the opponent Chasers. They had the Quaffle and were barreling down the field. Captain had warned Harry that they would try to pass the Quaffle back and forth to try and confuse him, but if he just watched the Quaffle, he'd be all right. There! They began zipping it back and forth between the three of them, to the one, to the other, and back, but Harry kept his eyes peeled on only the strangely shaped maroon ball. Closer, closer, Captain said they'd shoot as far back as thirty feet, the one in front dodged a Bludger, passed, then-

The Quaffle was thrown by the girl on the left. Harry saw with acute accuracy the ball leave her hands and fly towards the hoop on his right. A tricky shot, but a hard one to predict. Harry yanked his broom in the direction of the ball, then released the stick with one hand to block. It would be close! It was a fantastic shot and Harry knew he'd have to pull for all he was worth. Harry strained, harder than he had in any practice, harder than he probably should have. His shoulder began complaining at the abuse, but Harry simply pushed on.

There! The Quaffle brushed Harry's fingertips and he _pushed_. He heard the satisfying _thunk_ as the heavy ball hit the wooden hoop and Harry had never felt as accomplished as he did when he went into a dive and collected the Quaffle before it hit the ground.

The game soon developed a rhythm and Harry quickly discovered why Keepers began only trying to save a certain amount of goals. When his team was up eighty to forty, Harry's motivation to save goals quickly sapped away from him. Then, he remembered Wood and how incredible he had played in that Gryffindor victory over Slytherin, and Harry buckled down to play. Harry tried keep a decent count of how many saves, versus how many shots, he had, but eventually he figured that someone else had that sort of data. Harry found it easier to view this not as a game, but as an extended practice. That took away the desire to stop saving.

When the score was something around 140 to 60, advantage Hufflepuff, Harry's broom gave an unexpected jerk.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Ron asked Hermione, "Harry's in trouble!"

"Obviously." Hermione's voice was crisp. "Look." She pointed towards the teachers' stands.

"What...?" Ron craned his neck and shielded his eyes with his hands. "Hey...Hey! Snape is pointing his wand at Harry!"

"Mhmm," confirmed Hermione, "And what else do you see?"

"Looks like..." Ron squinted. "Hey, Quirrel is too!"

"Like that, I'm off," said Hermione.

She ran through the students' stands and quickly descended the stairs. She lost her breath halfway up the teachers' stands, and was winded at the top, but she kept going. _Wait, _she thought_, I can't actually hurt them. What to do...what to do._ Hermione snapped her fingers and kept going. When she passed by Quirrel, she bumped into him as hard as she could without it looking intentional.

"Sorry, Professor!" she shouted.

When she got to Professor Snape, Hermione paused. "_Supercorrio._" She saw Snape jump and twitch and she smirked to herself. Amid the confusion, she heard the commentator say, "Oy, that's just wonderful! It looks like Harry Potter's broom is righting itself! And it looks like Cedric Diggory has finally pushed out Sue Ying and is-" The great, loud cheer from everyone confirmed that he had, indeed, caught the Snitch.

* * *

**AN: Cool. Next week: Detention and stuff. **


	10. Chapter 10: Detention

**AN: Woooo new chapter! As always, I'm interested in what you think is/what should happen. **

**Replies:**

**KOTORgeek13: Yeah! I think it makes more sense with how Rowling described him in book 1. Thanks. :)**

**Geetac's Chapter Liking Counter: 8**

**Kairan1979: Noooooo don't be mad at her... Ah well, I guess it's inevitable. She does come off bad here.**

**Gaul1: kthxbai**

**Nanettez: I want to get across that he can get **_**anything**_** from the house elves. Yes it is very gross.**

**GL: I'm sure there are better ones out there, but you and I must have read canon very differently if you think that this is anywhere close to it.**

* * *

"I really have to go, seriously," Harry said, prying himself away from his ecstatic Housemates, "I have to go to detention."

"What?" asked Gerry, "What did you do?"

"I dueled Draco in the hallway outside of McGonagall's office," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Well, that was stupid," said Elizabeth, "That's the worst place to do that sort of thing."

Harry sighed. "I didn't _mean_ to do it there. Draco attacked me."

"Then you shouldn't have to do a detention!" Gerry exclaimed, "Draco's at fault!"

Harry shrugged. "It's fair, though. We both used magic in the halls."

"That's exactly right, Harry," said Cedric, walking over to the little group, "And I'm really proud of you for owning up to what you did, even though you didn't start anything." He placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Besides, your detention is with Hagrid, isn't it?" Cedric grinned.

Harry smirked back. "Yeah. Shouldn't be too tough, right?"

"Is it the Forbidden Forest one?" asked Gerry.

Harry nodded. "Have you done it before?"

"Basically everyone has," said Elizabeth, "That's the standard first detention. They set something up to scare you in the Forest so you don't break rules again."

Harry frowned. "That seems..."

"Manipulative?" asked Captain, walking up. "Yeah. Don't worry, on your second detention, you'll get something actually bad."

The group chuckled.

"Anyway," Harry said, "I'm actually late now, so I'll see you all after."

"Don't lose your face to the werewolves, Potter!" called out Justin, as Harry left the Common Room, to general laughter.

Harry wandered through the castle, making his way towards the Forest. He hadn't been entirely honest with his House: his detention wasn't to start for another hour or so. Harry wanted to muse and think about his day. He let his legs just take him anywhere they wanted to, and set his mind to wander.

The Quidditch match had gone surprisingly well. He hadn't expected to save as much as he had, given his extremely lack-luster performance in practice, but he knew that he had still been saved by Captain and his Chasers. It was hard to admit, but Harry had only saved enough, 59% according to Captain, because the Chasers had done an exceptional job of scoring. Harry knew he had to get better for the game against Slytherin, especially because Captain had said that their Chasers were really good.

Harry began paying attention to his surroundings, finally, and found that he was standing on a landing for the third floor. Some part of his mind went off in warning, but when he thought about it, he couldn't think of why. He remembered Dumbledore mentioning the third floor in his opening speech, but Harry had been hurriedly answering too many questions to really pay attention to that. Harry kept walking down the hall and idly wondered what time it was. He stopped in front of a particularly menacing door and his curiosity was piqued.

"Hmm," Harry muttered, "How do I open you?"

"Ask nicely and I might," replied the door in a hurt voice.

Harry blanched. This happened every so often in Hogwarts, and Harry was getting better at dealing with them, but they were still massively off-putting. "Will you please open?"

"No one wants me to open anymore, not since they put that _thing_ in that room over there," said the door, morosely, "Now everyone wants to go into _that_ room."

"What's in that room?" Harry asked, curious.

"Go see for yourself," muttered the door, "Just use _Alohomora_."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"The bloody Unlocking Charm, of course!" The door seemed to be getting more and more agitated, and Harry was starting to regret talking at all. "Don't you know anything?"

"Apparently not, Mr. Door," Harry said, with an edge to his voice, "And maybe if you were nicer, people would want to see what's behind you."

With that, Harry turned and walked to the door that had caused such jealousy. It looked ordinary, maybe a shade redder than the other doors on this floor, and stood there innocently. Harry pulled out his wand, his mind again idly wondering about the time, and tapped the lock. "_Alohomora._"

There was a click from the door and Harry reached down and twisted the knob. The door opened. Harry strode into the room beyond and suddenly remembered what Dumbledore had said about the third floor. After all, it's difficult to look into the eyes of a Cerberus and not think "die a very painful death."

* * *

Harry was out of breath, and almost out of legs, when he finally reached Hagrid's cabin.

"Harry?" Hagrid asked, "You're a mite early, aren't you?"

"Monster!" Harry gasped, "Monster in the-" he wheezed, "Castle!"

Hagrid's eyes widened, "What's that you say?" He put a hand on his crossbow. "Like that troll what got in on Halloween?"

Harry shook his head and took a deep breath, "Dog thing. Three heads. Terrifying!"

Hagrid let out a long breath. "Oh you mean Fluffykins. Don't go scaring me like that, Harry."

Harry sure that this was where the world would break apart. "Fluffykins? Hagrid, that thing could swallow me whole in half a bite."

Hagrid shook his head. "Naw, Harry, he wouldn't. He-" Hagrid frowned. "Wait. How'd you know Fluffykins was in the castle?"

Harry blinked. "Third floor?" He couldn't see any reason to lie.

"Blimey, Harry! Dumbledore said never to go there!" Hagrid exclaimed.

His rant was cut off by the arrival of Draco and Neville.

"Neville?" Harry asked, a little shocked. Neville had seemed a model, if a little slow, student. "What are you doing here?"

Neville looked at the ground bashfully. "Professor McGonagall thinks a 'practical approach' may help me cast better."

"In other words," Malfoy drawled, "He's stupid and is here as punishment."

"I don't know, Matoy," Harry said, tapping his finger against his chin, "He wasn't the one who attacked another student directly in front of Professor McGonagall's classroom."

"That was never confirmed!" yelled Draco reflexively.

"Listen," broke in Hagrid, "We're going in to the Forest to look for something terrible."

The three boys looked up at the extremely large man.

Hagrid's tone grew grim. "See, something's been feeding on unicorns."

Neville gasped and Draco covered his mouth with his hand. Harry tilted his head.

"So, we're going to go in and see what we can find." Hagrid nodded and looked into the forest, frowning slightly. He turned back. "We'll be splitting up into two groups. Who can shoot red sparks out of their wands?"

Harry immediately drew his wand and aimed it at the air, trying to duplicate the sparks he made at Ollivander's. Sure enough, red sparks obediently shot into the air.

Neville and Draco, however, seemed to be having difficulty with the task and, after maybe a minute, Hagrid stopped them.

"All right, then," Hagrid glanced at each of the three boys. "Draco, with me. Harry and Neville, you get Fang."

Harry flinched. If Hagrid could call that giant dog monster "Fluffykins," what sort of demon would warrant the name "Fang."

Hagrid lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply, causing the boys to plug their ears. A large mastiff came running out of Hagrid's hut, slobber gooping out of its jowls as it bounded across the dark meadow.

"This is Fang," Hagrid said, patting the dog on its large head.

Neville broke into a wide grin and walked over to pat the dog. Harry was terrified, but he also greeted the mastiff. He didn't know what sort of terror the beast was hiding, but he figured the dog should be his friend, rather than his enemy.

"All right." Hagrid pointed into the Forest. "Draco and I will go this way." He pointed another way. "Harry and Neville go this way. Any trouble and put up sparks. Oh!" Hagrid snapped his fingers. "Pull out your wand and say '_Lumos_.'"

Harry obeyed. "_Lumos_!" A bright light flared from the tip of Harry's wand. Harry grinned.

"Be careful, lads," said Hagrid, his hard look softening, "It's right dangerous in there."

The boys nodded. Harry was a little shaken, despite what his Housemates had said. It didn't seem like Hagrid to lie like this.

Harry and Neville, with Fang following behind, set off into the trees, waving goodbye to Hagrid as they went. Before long the dense treetops shut off any light. "_Lumos._" Harry's wand tip flared, illuminating a cone of Forest in front of them. The two boys walked on in silence, trying in vain to ignore the various sounds of the Forest at night while Fang trotted along comfortably. They began walking closer and closer together and, by unspoken consent, held hands. Harry took comfort in the warmth of Neville's hand and squeezed to comfort the other boy. Neville gave Harry a thankful grin.

"What are we even supposed to be looking for?" asked Harry.

Neville shook his head. "No idea, mate." He glanced around. "Wonder why we couldn't have done this in the daytime."

Harry shrugged. "Less scary that way."

Neville chuckled.

The banter calmed both boys down and they soon were chatting easily in the dark.

"So, why are you here, really?" asked Harry.

Neville shrugged. "My wand doesn't work. Hasn't since Halloween."

Harry frowned. "That's odd."

Neville nodded. "Professor McGonagall thinks I need a "jump-scare" or something to push me into using it again."

Harry shook his head. McGonagall didn't seem all that smart to him.

The boys and the dog made their way through the Forest and, after maybe forty five minutes, they found themselves in a large clearing. Harry's lit wand scanned the whole of the clearing, but there wasn't anything that stuck out to the boys.

Harry sighed. "You think Hagrid and Malfoy are having more luck?"

Neville yawned. "I'm getting tired. I almost want to just shoot up sparks and head home."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah. But there might be-"

The light from his wand flared as an extremely bright _thing_ walked into the clearing.

"How do I turn off the light?" Harry whispered.

"_Nox,_ I think," whispered Neville.

"_Nox,_" Harry breathed and the light went out.

The being that had entered the clearing was obviously a unicorn. Everything from the silvery white body, to the silky tail, to the lustrous horn screamed unicorn. In the same way Harry felt "very painful death" the moment he looked at Fluffykins, he felt "peace and love" when he looked at the unicorn.

The unicorn trotted around the perimeter of the clearing, and Harry and Neville turned to keep the gorgeous beast in their sights. The unicorn turned and saw Harry and Neville and tossed its head at them. Neville shivered, but Harry somehow knew that the unicorn was inviting him closer. He let go of Neville's hand and walked over the majestic creature.

When Harry approached, the unicorn nuzzled its nose into his hand and Harry stroked its neck.

"Hello," Harry said quietly.

The unicorn snorted on his hair, messing it up. Harry chuckled at the tickling sensation and gestured Neville closer.

"Uh, Harry?" Neville's voice was nervous.

The unicorn started and began pushing Harry away with its nose, worry in its eyes. Harry quickly glanced around the clearing, but saw nothing.

"What's wrong?" he asked, both to the unicorn and Neville.

"Fang is freaking out, Harry!" Neville's voice urged Harry to leave.

It was the unicorn, however, that made Harry run. The beast pushed him away again, but this time Harry saw the worry had changed to fear. Whatever this creature feared, Harry knew that he could not contend with it. He ran back to Neville and shot red sparks into the air before both boys were dashing out of the clearing, Fang bolting another way.

On their way to the clearing, Harry and Neville had become comfortable and relaxed in the Forest, now they were on edge and terrified. They again held hands and ran close together. This time, though, the Forest seemed to be attacking them. Small twigs and branches swung at them as they ran, causing small cuts and scratches. More than once, Neville tripped on a root and Harry pulled him up again. They didn't know what they were running from, and they didn't care.

Finally, both Harry and Neville tripped on the same root and landed, sprawled on the ground. They took the excuse to catch their breath for a moment. Before long however, they began to hear cracking and rumbling from behind them. They had made so much noise running through the forest that they hadn't heard anything follow them. Until now.

The thing, whatever it was, was gaining them at an incredible rate. Harry just had time to turn over and shoot red sparks into the air again before they were set upon by a spider the size of a small car.

For a brief moment, Harry wondered how something so big was able to chase them so well through the Forest, but then he was scrambling to pull himself and Neville up. The two boys faced down the spider breathing heavily and bleeding slightly.

"Hey Neville," Harry whispered, as they both backed up slowly, matching pace with the advancing spider.

Neville whimpered in answer.

"Do you still have that sword?" Harry asked.

Neville stopped moving and frowned. He yelled in a furious and fierce voice. "Sword of Godric Gryffindor, hear my cry! Aid me with courage and steel to vanquish my foe!" Neville thrust his hand into the air. "I need you, Sword!" His fingers closed around nothing, but Harry saw that Neville was grinning. Neville whipped his hand down, and suddenly the sword was in his hand, and pointed at the spider.

Upon seeing the steel gleaming in the read light gave the spider pause.

"_Epoximise_!" Harry shouted, urgency giving strength to his voice.

The spider suddenly found itself unable to move forward at its delicious prey.

"_Locomotor Wobbly_!" Harry shouted, holding up his empty hand to stop Neville from going in yet.

The spider was now in the utterly strange limbo of constantly falling, yet being unable to fall.

Harry clapped his empty hand on Neville's shoulder. "I reckon you get one shot, mate."

Neville frowned. "Why didn't you just use _Petrificus Totalus_?"

Harry shrugged. "Malfoy uses it."

Neville shook his head, bemused, and advanced on the spider, sword raised. The spider began squirming and making little squeaking sounds, no doubt aware of how close it was to death. Neville raised his sword over the spider, a grim look set on his face. Harry turned away at the actual swing, but he heard the wet_ crunch_ as the sword cut through the spider's carapace, and the subsequent _drip drip _of spider blood onto the ground.

Harry looked back to see Neville standing over the dead creature, his shoulders heaving with his breathing, the sword almost resting on the ground, blood dripping off of the tip. Neville turned and grinned back at Harry, the light from the sparks in the air making his grin look bloodthirsty. Harry grinned back and gave a thumbs up.

There was another crash, from where the spider had come from, and Harry and Neville readied themselves again for whatever was there. After a another crash, and a loud yell, Hagrid came barreling towards Harry and Neville, tripped on the spider's body, and landed heavily on the blood soaked earth. Giving no heed to this, the large man leapt up and asked, "Are you boys ok? Fang found me and I came as fast as I could."

Harry, reveling in the rush of victory, chuckled, "Well, we killed a giant spider. I think we're all right."

Neville nodded with a grin.

Hagrid suddenly seemed become aware of what was covering him and he let out a large belly laugh. "Old Aragog won't be overly pleased, but it's clear to me that you two were just defending yourselves."

Harry, rather than ask who "Old Aragog" was, exclaimed, "Hagrid! We saw a unicorn!"

Hagrid gave a lopsided grin. "Did you, now? Where was this?"

"Um, sorry, sir," Neville said, shyly, "But where's Malfoy?"

Hagrid rolled his eyes. "That yellow belly couldn't stand more than twenty minutes in the Forest so I sent him back to bed, with another detention tomorrow."

Neville grinned at Harry, who nodded wisely, as if he had known so all along.

Neville and Harry led the way back to the clearing, talking exultantly about their achievement. As they approached the clearing, Fang began to whine and bark and Hagrid shushed him. The Forest was again friendly and welcoming to the conquering heroes, and Harry and Neville strode with big steps and long legs over root and rock. They saw the edge of the clearing up ahead and pointed it out to Hagrid, when Fang let out a loud howl and bolted the other way.

"Fang! Get back here you bloody great coward!" Hagrid yelled, to no avail. "Ah well, boys, it's probably just a centaur or something." Nonetheless, Hagrid hefted his crossbow.

The group moved into the clearing and Harry fell to his knees. The unicorn that had befriended Harry was lying in the center of the clearing, its legs all at obviously broken angles. The beast's coat was dull and lifeless, and it seemed smaller somehow, reduced in some way that Harry couldn't put his finger on. Hagrid let out a bellow and charged forward, towards the dead unicorn. Harry tried to follow, but his legs couldn't quite carry him there. Neville was openly crying, standing a few feet behind Harry. Hagrid lifted the body as easily as Harry would lift a sheet of parchment and carried it back to where the boys were standing. He knelt and laid it down on the leaves.

"Well, it's at least clear what is killing the unicorns." Hagrid's voice was brittle and obviously furious.

"What do you mean, Hagrid?" Harry asked with difficulty, feeling a warm wetness traveling down his cheeks.

"See here?" Hagrid pointed to a small hole in the unicorn's neck. "This is a hole made by a very particular and very Dark artifact: the Vampire's Spigot." He stopped to wipe his eyes. "It's used to drain a being of all its blood."

Harry looked up. "How do you know?"

Hagrid looked up at the stars, gleaming in from above. "None of the flesh is gone, which means it wasn't hunted for food. And," he pointed to the small hole, "See how it's a clean hole? No other tool could make such a clean hole."

Harry frowned. "Why would someone want unicorn blood?"

Hagrid's eyes went dark. "Unicorn blood heals things, for a price. You get to live, but your life will be utterly cursed and all that you attempt shall fail. It's a desperate course; death seems better than that to most people." Hagrid looked at Harry, who blanched at the look in the large man's eyes. "It's a wizard, Harry."

It was a somber party that walked back to the castle. All sense of victory at killing the spider was gone when Harry remembered the broken and drained unicorn. Harry resolved to find the villain who did this. He resolved to right this wrong. And a single look at Neville's face told Harry that he wouldn't be alone.

* * *

**AN: Man, sorry about how long that section is. I was talking with my beta and I was like "Can I get away with the detention taking up the whole chapter?" and he was like "Naw, that's not your style." Oops. Anyway, next up is simply tying up loose end before Christmas break. Reviews make me write faster and stuff. I'm actually surprised I've kept to "at least once a week." Didn't think that would happen.**


	11. Chapter 11: Things!

**AN: Chapter! **

**Replies: **

** Kotorgeek13: I was actually gonna make him a Seeker, but then I remembered that Cedric was already the Hufflepuff Seeker. But I like this better, and I have some cool things in store for his career.**

** Kairan1979: Probably gonna haunt Harry for a while. But yay! Victory!**

* * *

Somehow, the tale of Harry and Neville's victory spread through the Hogwarts gossip network fast enough that, when Harry woke the next morning, there was already a group of his Housemates ready to pester him with questions. Harry had quickly discovered that it was conducive to tell the entire story from the beginning, with as many people listening to him as possible, in order to mitigate the amount of pointless questions. However Harry found that, for the first time yet, he didn't _want_ to tell the whole story. He still felt a deep sense of shame over the death of the unicorn and, despite Neville and Hagrid statements to the contrary, Harry still felt responsible in some way. The story of spider killing, on the other hand, Harry was ready to tell as many times as necessary.

There was a moment of silence when Harry was finished.

"You killed an acromantula?!", "That's not what _my_ first detention was,", "Man, Harry, that's really impressive," were just some of the statements Harry heard after finishing his story.

"To be fair," Harry said, "I'm not entirely sure what an acromantula is, so I'm not sure that we killed one. Also, I'm hungry." Everyone stopped and looked at him. "Can we at least do this in the Great Hall?"

There was a great exodus from the Hufflepuff Common Room to the Great Hall, all of the students following Harry. Harry found the formation strange and slightly disturbing, but he did not think that the group would take kindly to his telling them to disburse. Harry answered the questions as they came and he began to notice a strange trend. The questions were becoming odd, and Harry began to feel uncomfortable answering them.

"I'll bet after saving the Wizarding World, just an acromantula wouldn't seem like much, huh, Harry?" asked one.

"Yeah, you're so heroic and all that! I'll bet you're going to save everyone in the whole world from anything!" mentioned another.

"Um, no," Harry said, turning back to the group. "Let's just stop that."

"But you won your first game as Keeper!" called out someone from the back of the group.

Harry shrugged. "That was Cedric and Captain."

"You fought Malfoy three different times!" came another voice

"And in the only fair one, he destroyed me," Harry said tiredly.

"But you got rid of You-Know-Who!" this last one sounded a bit desperate.

"I was a baby!" yelled Harry. There was a stunned silence. Harry took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can you please stop with all this? Seriously, I wasn't even aware of what happened with Voldemort." There was a communal gasp from the group. "What?"

"You can't just say his name!" said one of the people in the front of the group. "His name is cursed!"

Harry sighed. "By your own admission, he's gone. It doesn't matter. But regardless, I'm hungry." He turned to leave.

"Harry!" Another voice made Harry turn back.

"What?!" Harry asked, his irritation flowing into his voice, "Are you going to ask about what kind of savior I am?!"

Hermione looked at Harry in confusion. "No. I was going to ask if you wanted to eat with me this morning."

Harry felt heat rush to his cheeks. "Yes, Hermione. I do."

* * *

Harry's outburst ensured that he and Hermione were left alone for their meal, something that Harry was very grateful for. Harry decided that his morning had been weird enough and forwent any sort of strange food, sticking with a traditional breakfast. Hermione had toast and cereal, and seemed to be thankful that Harry's food did not make her ill.

They ate in silence, as Hermione was wont to prefer, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry's thoughts drifted to Hermione herself. She was a very different girl from the one he had met on the Hogwarts Express. That Hermione had been ready to make friends, admittedly she hadn't been very good at it, but this Hermione talked to no one other than Ron and himself. That Hermione had been smart, no question, but this Hermione was something beyond that. Harry resolved that he would help her make friends. After all, who didn't want more friends?

"All right," Hermione said, after she drank the last of the milk in her bowl, "I know why Snape is acting the way he has been."

Harry tilted his head. _That _was unexpected.

She pulled a large book out of her bag and put it on the table. "This is _Genealogies of the Great and Powerful_." She flipped through the pages, until coming to the page she wanted. "Potter."

Harry gaped. There were hundreds of names!

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, to be exact," Hermione turned the book around, to face it at Harry, "Here it all is, Harry. Now-"

Harry held up a hand. "I want to revel in family history for a second here, Hermione."

Hermione smiled a small, private smile at Harry's excitement.

Harry turned out to be something like the hundredth generation of Potter, at least that this book had knowledge of. He quickly found his parents and marveled at the small pictures in the book, who waved and smiled at him. Harry, staring into those eyes, felt a strange emotion rising inside of him, and he soon found his eyes to be misty. He blinked the moisture away, before Hermione could ask what was wrong, and he focused on finding if any other Potters were alive today. He soon found an uncle living in France, and briefly wondered why he didn't grow up there, but the thought quickly left his mind when he found himself.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yes?" she replied.

"How am I in here?" Harry pointed to his name in the book.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh, the book automatically keeps track of any legitimate progeny of anyone in the book. There's a charm that automatically adds new pages. It's _really_ fascinating magic."

Harry nodded. "What did you want to show me?"

"Did you notice any sort of trend amongst your family?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "To be honest, I was more interested in seeing that I had a family." He grinned widely. "Thanks for that by the way."

Hermione smiled back, inwardly glowing, "Of course, Harry. Now," she pointed just under each of the names. "What does it say here?"

Harry squinted. "House Gryffindor, years 874 to 881."

Hermione nodded. "And here?"

"House Gryffindor, years 1343 to 1350." Harry frowned.

"What about this?" Hermione asked, oblivious to Harry.

"House Gryffindor, years 1670 to 1677." Harry sighed. "What's the point of this?"

"Well," Hermione explained, "All of your family has been in Gryffindor, right?"

Harry tiredly nodded. "Yes yes, I'm a great disgrace."

Hermione glared at him. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Of course not, Hermione, I'm sorry." Harry shook his head. "I've had an annoying morning."

"What I'm saying," Hermione said, an edge to her voice, "Is that I think Snape isn't punishing you, but your father."

Harry frowned. "Where are you getting this?"

"See," Hermione turned the page, "Here's your father, right?"

Harry nodded, smiling.

"These years seem about right for Snape too, yeah?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I suppose. Snape seems sort of ageless, though, you know?" Harry cast a wary glance at the potions master, sitting at the High Table.

"Now, there's no mention of a Snape in the book, I guess they weren't important enough," Hermione waited for Harry's chuckles to subside, "And it may be a bit of a stretch to extrapolate the rest, but it's reasonable to guess that a powerful Slytherin and a powerful Gryffindor in the same year would go at it."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't mean that he would hold a grudge this whole time."

Hermione shrugged. "It's the best I have. In any case," she got up and put the book back into her bag, "You need to talk to Professor Sprout about all this."

Harry sighed. "I know, I know. I just don't want us to lose the Cup because of me."

Hermione gave Harry a lingering look. "What's more important, Harry, winning or fairness?"

After Harry was finished with his breakfast, he made his way up to the High Table. "Professor Sprout?"

His Head of House looked up in surprise. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I need to speak with you."

* * *

After _that_ interesting conversation, Harry knew that he had one more to go. He made his way down to Hagrid's hut thinking what he was going to say to the large man. Harry had done some thinking, but he hadn't been able to come to any conclusions, and he hoped that Hagrid would be able to assist him.

He knocked on the large door and heard a pot crashing to the floor.

"Blast it! Who's there?" came the voice from inside.

"It's Harry!" Harry called back.

"The door's unlocked, Harry, come on in!" There was another loud crash. "Ah, there it is."

Harry hesitantly opened the door and saw dozens of pots and pans, all broken, spread across the room.

"Uh, what is this?" Harry asked.

"_Reparo!_" Hagrid said, lifting his pink umbrella. All of the pots and pans immediately fixed themselves.

Harry's eyes bugged out. "What?!"

"Now, Harry, help me pick these up." Hagrid stooped and began picking up the crockery.

The two working together got the work done quickly, and they sat down to talk.

"Now, Harry, what do you want?" Hagrid asked.

"I was curious about the Gringotts break-in that happened," Harry said, "It happened the day we were there, right?"

Hagrid nodded. "Aye, I remember something like that. What did you want to know, Harry?"

"Well," Harry scratched his head, "What did you take out from the vault?"

"That's Hogwarts business, that is," Hagrid waved a finger reprovingly, but grinned with pride all the same. "Can't be talking about that."

"So what's that giant dog thing doing here?" Harry decided to change tactics.

"What?" Hagrid flinched. "Oh, Fluffykins. He's, er, just, um, here, Harry. Don't ask me things I can't answer."

Harry sighed. "Well, I guess I'll just have to go and find out for myself what it's doing here, that is, if you can't tell me." Hagrid looked unsure, and Harry pressed his advantage. "Or, you could just tell me and we could be done."

Hagrid looked at Harry dubiously. "You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

Harry turned on his most innocent face. "It's really only curiosity, Hagrid. I promise."

Hagrid sighed, defeated. "He's guarding something."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Is he guarding what you pulled out of Gringotts?"

Hagrid rolled his eyes. "Yes."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Hagrid!" He got up to leave.

"Wait a minute, Harry!" Hagrid held out a hand. "Promise me you'll not try and get whatever is down there."

Harry blinked confusedly. "Why would I do that? You said that only the Darkest wizards try to steal from Gringotts, and if a Dark wizard wants what Fluffykins is guarding, I certainly don't."

"That's the spirit, Harry! I'll see you around, eh?" Hagrid waved as Harry left the hut.

Harry definitely didn't want the thing. But that didn't mean that no one else did, either.

* * *

It was a strange sort of shock to Harry when Ron asked about his plans for the Christmas vacation. He hadn't realized that winter was approaching so fast, but suddenly it was snowing and there was a cheer in the air as students discussed Christmas and spending time with their families. Harry supposed that he was going to go home and see his family again, but he didn't really give it much thought. Hogwarts was such a beautiful place that Harry was ever so slightly disappointed about going home. All the same, he made sure to send a letter home confirming that he was coming home for Christmas.

Ron was staying at Hogwarts since his parents were going to Romania to visit Charlie, and Ron was all right with that. Charlie wasn't his favorite brother, and Romania was definitely _not_ his favorite country. Fred and George were staying at Hogwarts as well and Ron looked forward to plotting with them, without worrying about the other Slytherins seeing him. Ron felt confident that he could convince his little group to stay as well, to keep practicing, and he was very optimistic about what they could accomplish.

Hermione and her parents would be spending a nice, quiet Christmas in their townhouse. That meant that she would be reading and they would be attending social events, parties and soirees and the like. They would no doubt badger her initially about coming with them, but Hermione would simply remind them about what happened in '86, and they would no doubt agree that she was better left alone. Hermione was tremendously excited about what she would be studying, as it was something that she had been wanting to look at ever since the summer. She had finally found the legendary _Alchemy for Dummies_ in the Hogwarts library and she was very ready to devour it over the Christmas Break.

* * *

**AN: So, nothing actually cool happened this chapter w****hich made it feel like pulling teeth, and I feel like the chapter is crap. That being said, you may disagree! Let me know if you do! Posting this felt bad so I need the encouragement. xD Next up is Winter Break! That may be a long chapter, so it may take longer than a week to do, but I promise that it'll be quality!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12: Winter Hols!

**Geetac's liking chapter count: 9**

**Dianaanne: Yeah! I realized that I hadn't paid off that joke yet. Glad you liked it!**

**Kairan1979: Such is the way of Quirrelmort. :/**

**Kotorgeek13: So far, that's the plan! We'll see how he handles all of this. I have high hopes for him, though. We got him near the beginning of his hatred.**

**Guest: You raise good points and, in principle, I agree. Thing is, I was trying to get stuff out every week, so some chapters are going to be less complete than others. Yeah! I figure Harry needed to decompress a little after the unicorn died.**

**AN: Sorry for the hiatus! I forgot that writing is more than just fun, you see, and I lost my muse for a few months. She's back, however, and I promise to try harder to be faithful to all of you lovely people.**

* * *

Harry and Hermione were sitting in their compartment, studiously ignoring the inquiring eyes of several starstruck students. Harry achieved this by staring out of the window at the rapidly passing scenery, occasionally glancing back to see if the gawkers had left. They hadn't. Hermione achieved the same by reading. She didn't glance up.

"Have you thought any more about Snape?" Hermione queried without looking up.

Harry glanced at her, causing a flutter of excitement amongst the onlookers. "What? I talked to Professor Sprout about it."

"Oh."

There were another bunch of minutes of silence and the green Scottish moors began to turn into rolling green hills of Northern England. Hermione turned approximately fifteen pages and Harry blinked approximately thirty-five times. The onlookers dispersed slightly, leaving only the truly dedicated to gaze on their young hero.

"Hermione?" Harry asked without looking back.

"Yes?" Hermione replied, glancing up for a second.

"Do you want to hang out over the winter hols?" Harry grinned at a flock of sheep grazing away. There was a bit of silence and Harry looked over, pleasantly surprised at only three people staring into their compartment.

Hermione's brow was furrowed and she was staring into her book. "Where do you live?"

Harry rattled off his address.

Hermione's face fell. "That's a bit far, Harry, but I can ask my parents." She smirked. "Now that I finally have a friend, they sort of _have_ to facilitate us getting together."

Harry felt a surge of pity, mixed with a strange desire to laugh, at Hermione's statement. "Well, my parents love meeting new people, really open to new ideas and experiences, so I think they'd be willing to drive out to meet you."

Hermione brightened. "That's good. My parents don't...aren't..." She searched for the right word. "They're inside people."

Harry nodded sagely.

* * *

"Lurtz, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm a little disappointed that you're the only one of the group who stayed." Ron paced around the group's meeting place with a little more force than he'd normally attribute to walking.

"Point of pride, sir," Lurtz nodded.

"You're definitely my most loyal, um," Ron trailed off.

"Henchman?" Lurtz supplied.

"Er, yes, thank you." Ron nodded.

"Henching's been in the family for generations, sir, it wouldn't be right if I played second fiddle to some Davis or Triali," Lurtz grunted, seeming offended at the very notion.

Ron blinked. "What? What's henching?"

"As you know, sir, every man of importance has himself at least a few men loyal to the very end." Lurtz grinned in pride. "My family got in on the business long ago, sir, very long ago, and have been proudly serving men of importance ever since."

Ron frowned. "I'm not important."

"But see that's the thing, sir," Lurtz gestured with his thick arms, "If I can make you important, then I'll be on the top of the henching list for the rest of my life."

Ron waited for his brain to catch up with what Lurtz was saying. "So you're saying that you're completely loyal to me until I become important?"

Lurtz nodded and puffed out his chest. "Righto, sir, that's the plan."

Ron grinned and a gleam that Harry would have called evil appeared in his eye. "Well then, Lurtz, we have work to do."

* * *

"Harry!" called Daisy, drawing the attention of a large crowd of wizards, "Harry, welcome back to..." She paused for a second. "Here!"

Harry waved back enthusiastically from the steps of the train. "Hey! Good to see you!"

He awkwardly pulled his heavy trunk through the teeming crowd, getting jostled this way and that. He lost sight of Daisy once or twice, but he always saw his Uncle Vernon towering about the crowd. Harry heard several voices call out his name, and he did his best to wave at them all, but getting to his family was far more important.

"Uncle!" Harry cried.

"Harry!" Uncle Vernon yelled and swept the small boy up into his arms, and swung him around. When the momentum died, Harry was put down and Petunia pounced on him, quickly kissing both of his cheeks.

"Oh my little boy is so grown up!" Petunia cooed.

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry sputtered, pushing her off, "My friends are watching!"

"Oh, Harry, they don't mind, do they?" Petunia looked up at the surprising number of students watching them.

After a moment, Cedric started and shooed everyone away. "All right, you lot, get on home! We've all got homes to get to!"

Harry grinned appreciatively at Cedric, who winked back.

"Who's that, my boy?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"He's pretty," murmured Daisy appreciatively.

"That's Cedric Diggory," Harry said, "He's my upperclassman mentor."

Uncle Vernon strode through the milling crowd and clapped Cedric on the shoulder. "Is that so? Glad to hear it!"

Cedric smiled sheepishly and excused himself.

Harry felt a tug on his sleeve.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice seemed to barely reach his ear.

Harry grinned and turned. "Hey!" He brought her into his parent's view. "This is Hermione, you may remember her from my letters."

Daisy smirked. "Is she your giiiiiirlfriend?"

Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione blushed. "No, Daisy, she's not."

Hermione shrank against Harry's arm.

Petunia deftly swatted the back of Daisy's head and smiled warmly at Hermione. "Hello, dear, it's so nice to meet you."

Hermione straightened a bit and nodded at Petunia. "Hello, Mrs. Vernon. It's a pleasure to meet you too."

"Ooooh!" Daisy peered in. "She's so _proper_, Harry, how-"

"You know," Harry muttered to Hermione, "You _can_ interject and stop her."

Hermione whispered back indignantly, "That's not _polite_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Is _she_ being polite?"

Hermione slowly shook her head.

"Then you don't have to either, right?" Harry asked.

Hermione took a deep breath. The stare she gave Daisy made the girl wilt. "You're being quite rude, young lady."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

After a moment of being taken aback, Daisy puffed up and recoiled. "I'm the same age as you!"

To an extent that Draco Malfoy would be jealous of, Hermione looked down her nose at Daisy. "Oh. _Are_ you?"

Daisy's eyes went wide and her face turned red. She retreated behind her mother, and Harry had to choke back laughter at the sight.

"So, Hermione," Petunia said, before the awkwardness became too much, "Where are your parents?"

"They prefer to wait on the other side of the barrier." Hermione shook her head, as if annoyed at their lack of curiosity. "They don't like to see what they don't understand."

Just then, a giant red and green tarantula wearing a Santa hat walked by singing, "We wish you a Merry Christmas," in a strangely rote way. In the silence that followed, Harry heard a boy mutter, "It's just not the same without them, is it?"

* * *

Getting from King's Cross to the car was more difficult than Harry had anticipated. Vernon held them all up for not quite an hour being waylaid by dozens of witches and wizards utterly fascinated with his clothes. Harry heard his uncle explain the many different parts of his three piece suit over and over again, to the point where other wizards would exasperatedly explain things to the newer additions to the crowd. After shaking innumerable hands, and even signing a document with the Muggle Liaison Office, Vernon was able to get out of the platform and into King's Cross proper.

There a brief, _painfully_ polite conversation with the Grangers, an exchange of phone numbers, and a soft suggestion of getting together for Christmas Eve. The Dursleys and Harry walked out of the station and Harry had a new sense of pity for Hermione's living situation. No wonder the girl was so awkward around others. Little wonder books were so comfortable for her; her parents talked like the dictionary.

Daisy managed to recover from Hermione's rebuke enough that she was able to glowingly talk about her "new friend" all the home. She also regaled Harry with tale after tale of her times with Ginny. How she and Ginny chased and tossed garden gnomes, how she and Ginny spooked the ghoul, and how she and Ginny helped Mrs. Weasely cooked dinner one night.

Just as she was about to tell Harry all about Puffskeins, he interrupted. "Did she ever come to our house, or did you just bother them for the whole fall?"

Daisy stuck out her tongue. "Yeah, but that's all boring."

"Not for wizards." Harry shook his head. "Ron was amazed at my watch. At least until it stopped working." Harry thought for a second. "He actually still has it."

Vernon turned around in the drivers' seat and asked, "What do you mean stopped working?"

Harry shrugged. "It just stopped working one day. Almost made me late to breakfast that day."

"I'll get you another one!" Vernon flashed a thumbs up.

"Don't bother," Harry said, "There's not really a point. We all walk everywhere together."

"If you're sure, my boy," Vernon said.

The rest of the drive was uneventful and mostly consisted of Harry telling his parents about his detention and his meeting with the unicorn. He downplayed the terror he felt, he didn't want his parents to remove him from the school after all, but he couldn't keep the emotion from his voice when the unicorn came up. He saw Daisy's eyes when he described the animal, but he knew that he still couldn't completely describe the awe and wonder he had felt when in its presence. The family arrived home when Harry was about halfway through the story, but no one wanted to interrupt him and so they all stayed in the car and listened.

Try as he might, Harry couldn't keep the emotion out of his voice when he got to the unicorn's death and the car became blurry when he described seeing it lying there. All of his family's eyes were turned to him, and he thought he felt a soft pressure on his hand. As he continued talking, Harry felt tears tracking their way down his cheeks, and the pressure on his hand grew. In the same way that he couldn't fully explain the beauty of the unicorn, he likewise felt his words explaining the horror of its death were shallow.

"And then," Harry took a steadying sniff and wiped his eyes, "Me and Neville made our way back to the castle."

There was a serious, full silence in the car.

"Oh, Harry dear," Petunia began, before Vernon put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"I feel ok on the whole, I guess," said Harry, not noticing that Petunia had spoken, "But I still have dreams about it."

Daisy, who had been holding his hand, gave him a comforting squeeze. "It's good that you got to meet before it died, right?"

Harry nodded and gave a sad smile. "Yeah. It was beautiful." He smiled at Daisy. "Thanks."

She grinned back. "Geez, Harry, you're finally home again. Stop being all moody and stuff."

Harry and Daisy bantered all the way back into the house, arguing about who had to carry Harry's trunk. Vernon and Petunia watched with smiles on their faces, utterly happy with the children they had raised.

* * *

It was a week into Ron and Lurtz's winter training, and huge progress had been made. They had discovered that their fellow Slytherins' rooms were not very well protected during the holidays and set a few traps in place. Ron discovered a terrifically useful spell for checking for traps, completely by accident. He was trying to remember the spell for revealing invisible people, to see if anyone was in a room at a given time.

"It's _Homenum_ something or other," Ron was saying, scratching his chin in thought. "Any idea, Lurtz?"

His henchman shrugged. "You know that's not my thing, sir."

Ron shrugged and pulled out his wand. "Maybe it'll come to me in the middle of casting." He turned and aimed his wand at the room they were investigating. "_Homenum_..." He trailed off. He looked at his wand and frowned. "_Homenum_!" and he slashed his wand through the air. When nothing happened, he sighed. If he couldn't check the rooms, there was no way to establish his dominance during this time of strength. Despair weighed in on him, along with a sense of his own uselessness. More out of stubbornness that anything else, Ron flicked his wand at the room and muttered, "_Homenum_."

To his and Lurtz's surprise, a human shaped _thing_ popped out of his wand and bounced into the room and was immediately frozen in a pose that would be extremely uncomfortable for a human being. Ron and Lurtz looked at each other, their eyes wide, and slowly backed away from the door.

"Well then." Ron looked at his wand. "That..."

"Do it again, sir," Lurtz said, recovering quickly from the strange sight.

"What?" asked Ron, dazed and confused.

"That spell," Lurtz said, "I might be able to use it for training, sir."

Ron frowned in confusion, but didn't question any further. "All right then. _Homenum_!" Nothing happened.

"That's odd, sir," said Lurtz, tilting his head.

Ron nodded. "I'll try again._ Homenum_!" Again, nothing. Ron sighed and began to feel that sense of uselessness again.

Seeing his face fall, Lurtz said, "Buck up, sir, one more!"

Reluctant to fail again, though wanting to help his henchman, Ron flicked his wand and said, "_Homenum_," decidedly dejectedly.

"Well done, sir!" exclaimed Lurtz as the human shaped _thing_ popped out of Ron's wand and landed against the wall. "Now, let's see..." He trailed off as he picked up the object.

Were it to stand, the thing was about a head taller than Ron, barely taller than Lurtz. It was the color of flesh that hadn't seen the sun, ever, and had a sort of haunted expression on its face. It didn't _seem_ alive, but it still made Ron feelsupremely uncomfortable. Lurtz, on the other hand, joyfully bounded up to the thing and immediately wrapped his arm around its neck and squeezed. Hard. Ron winced at the pure strength the eleven year old was able to exert.

There was a sudden, soft _pop_ and the human thing disappeared, leaving Lurtz looking down at his arm in disappointment.

"I think you killed it," Ron said, his stomach turning a bit.

Lurtz nodded. "Primo thinking, sir. Well," he turned to Ron, "With these, I could teach our group hand to hand combat, if you thought it a good idea."

Ron mentally shook himself and his brain took over. "Definitely, Lurtz." He grinned savagely. "We'll take this school by storm."

* * *

Hermione paced her room nervously, looking at the wall-mounted clock every thirty seconds or so. The clock had famous literary quotes instead of numbers and pencils instead of hands, and it had been a present for Hermione's eighth birthday. The smaller pencil ticked ever closer to "Better three hours too soon than a minute too late," 12 o'clock, and Hermione sat down on her bed.

Harry would be here soon. That would be the first time another person, specifically a boy, would be in her house, as her guest. Hermione knew how to be a good hostess, at least she had read about it, but the closer the larger pencil got to "Lost time is never found again," 6 o'clock, the more she realized how terribly wrong things could go.

With but 10 minutes to go, Hermione realized that she could _not_ do this. She looked into her mirror, barely saw her dinner dress or perfect hair, and only saw a small, eleven year old girl whose responsibilities were going to crush her. Hermione left her bedroom and quickly descended the stairs, past the pictures of her childhood, full of intention to cancel the dinner. When she was a mere two steps from the bottom, her world ended with a doorbell ringing.

Hermione saw her parents moving towards the door and time slowed down. Her parents were wearing smiles, as though nothing were wrong. There was a the briefest of nervous glances from her mother to her father, and similarly brief flash of hope erupted in Hermione, but then the doorknob was being turned and the door was opening and Harry, his aunt and uncle, and that rude cousin of his were all there. Smiles and handshakes were being exchanged and then they would come in and then they would know how unprepared Hermione was for all of this and then Harry would, completely justifiably, never want to see her again and that was bad and then she would never-

"Hey Hermione!" Harry called, waving.

"Hello," Hermione managed.

Harry's aunt nudged him and pointed at Hermione, no doubt telling him what a bad hostess Hermione already was, and Harry walked over. He bowed, a little stiffly, and held out his hand.

"Um, what-?" Hermione asked.

Harry went a little red. "I'm helping you down the stairs or something."

Hermione also went a little red. "Oh. Thanks."

She took his hand and descended the last two stairs without incident.

Daisy was reintroducing herself to Hermione's parents, who seemed a little blown away by the younger girl's energy.

"You look nice," Harry said with a smile.

"Thanks, you do too," Hermione shifted her weight. Why was talking so _hard_?

"So," Harry began, "How was your-"

"Hermione!" Daisy seemed to remember that Hermione was standing nearby and bolted over.

Hermione gave a small smile. "Oh, hi, Daisy."

"What are we eating tonight? I'm _starved_." Daisy turned back towards the two sets of parents, who were smiling at each other, which was a step in the right direction. Smiling meant good things.

The two sets of parents began walking towards the kitchen, favoring Daisy with slightly condescending smiles and words.

"Shall we?" Harry asked, gesturing at the kitchen.

Hermione nodded and they started walking.

"You have a really nice house," Harry said, looking around at the living room, "I like it."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "We had to clean a lot for you to come over."

Harry chuckled ruefully. "Sorry I'm such a bother."

Hermione opened her mouth to say that, of course he wasn't, and how silly it was of her to even mention it, but the words wouldn't come out.

They walked into the kitchen, where a table set out for five already had water and glasses of wine set out.

"Ah, a 2003 Bordeaux? That's a mighty fine vintage, Dan," Mr. Dursley was saying, "You didn't have to go to that extravagance for us!"

Hermione allowed herself a small smile.

"Not at all, Vernon, my cousin owns a winery, we have too much of the stuff!" Hermione's father gave a quite uncharacteristic chortle.

The two seats left were not next to each other, and only when Hermione began to move away from Harry did she realize that they had been holding hands that whole time. The thought made her almost as red as the wine.

The dinner was delicious, as Hermione knew it would be, roast goose being a specialty of the Grangers. The Dursleys were gracious guests, though Hermione noticed that Mr. Dursley didn't eat all that much, and soon another bottle of wine had to be retrieved from the kitchen. Conversation ranged all over from mundane topics like the weather and England's chance at the Cup to commiserating over having children at Hogwarts.

Harry and Hermione each told story after story of their peculiar education, to oohs and aahs from their audience. Harry told only one story that Hermione hadn't heard before, but one his family obviously had. It was about his detention. As the story unfolded, Hermione found herself feeling worse and worse. No _wonder_ Harry had been so quiet that morning. No _wonder_ he had been looking at her so much, he had been wondering if she was worthy of hearing his _deeply _personal story, and she had shown him her stupid book thing. No _wonder_ he had gotten so emotional looking at the history of his parents, he was emotionally shot anyway and then she had to remind him of his dead parents. No _wonder_-

"Hermione?" Harry's voice broke into her thoughts. "Are you ok?"

Hermione realized that her eyes had filled with tears, and when she tried to blink them back into her eyes, they spilled out onto her cheeks.

"S-sorry." Hermione snatched up her napkin and cleaned her face. "I'm fine." She looked over her napkin at the four people peering inquisitively at her. In retrospect, Harry et all coming over _hadn't_ ended her world. This had.

"Ex-excuse me." Hermione got up from the table and walked away from her death, through the living room that Harry had so nicely complimented, and up the stairs into her room, where the large ticking pencil would eventually save her.

"I'm so sorry about Hermione. I really don't know _what_ came over her," Mrs. Granger was saying.

"Oh, not a problem at all!" said Vernon, clapping a jovial hand on Mr. Granger's shoulder, "Harry's story was a mite sad, after all."

Harry looked anxiously up the stairs. "Can I go say goodbye? She doesn't usually do that."

"Oh, I'm sure she'll be fine after a good night's sleep," smiled Mr. Granger, to his surprise liking the boy his little girl had brought home. "You go on home and have a wonderful Christmas, Harry."

Harry looked at the fluffy carpet, worry in his eyes and grinding teeth. "If you're sure, sir. I really think I should check on her."

Vernon looked at his watch. "Well, hurry up, son." He looked at the Grangers. "If you're all right with it, anyway."

Mrs. Granger put a hand on her husband's arm and gave him some kind of look that Harry couldn't understand, and Mr. Granger sort of scrunched his mouth up.

"All right, Harry, go on. Be careful, though," Mr. Granger frowned, "She can be kind of...mean when she cries."

Harry nodded and started up the stairs. It wasn't hard to tell which room was Hermione's. Harry grinned at the "Keep Out; I'm Reading" sign and knocked.

"Who'z it?" came the small voice from inside.

"It's Harry," Harry said softly.

"No," said the voice, "Go away."

"What happened? Are you all right?" Harry asked, pressing a little closer to the door.

"It's nothing. Go away." The voice was a little muffled, it sounded like she was under a blanket or something.

Harry leaned against the wall for a bit, unsure of what to say. Daisy always let him in when she was sad.

"Are you still there?" Hermione's voice asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"You can go. Seriously, I'll be fine." Her voice was steadier now.

Harry was loathe to leave. "I want to be here if you need me."

"You're just an owl away, Harry." Her voice was closer than it had been. "Go and have a nice Christmas."

"If you're sure." Harry straightened and put a soothing hand on the door, before remembering that she couldn't see him. "I'll see you on the train, yeah?"

"Yeah. Of course."

Harry turned and walked back down the stairs, got in the car, and quickly became engrossed in conversation with Daisy. It wasn't until he was at home, in bed, that he remembered he hadn't even given Hermione her Christmas present.

* * *

"Oi, sir," Lurtz whispered as he and Ron quickly ducked into a nearby classroom. "Where are we going?"

"No idea," Ron whispered back, "That's the whole point. We have to be able to get lost and be ok, if we get chased down by someone."

Lurtz shrugged.

The training had been going very well. Lurtz was pleased with Ron's progress on what they called "Muggle Duels," that is, hand to hand combat. Ron still had trouble with certain aspects like dodging, blocking, and hitting, but he _was_ improving on his grabs and holds. Regardless, if Lurtz did his job correctly, and of course he would, then Ron would have no need to fight. Ron could be the mind against mind and Lurtz could be the muscle against muscle, just as it was supposed to be.

After waiting an appropriate amount of time, Ron and Lurtz again moved from their hiding place, furtively looking around for unseen enemies and sneaking past invisible guards. Before long, as was the plan, they were completely lost.

Lurtz would probably have been scared, after all it was night and the castle did move, but Ron knew what he was doing, and that was good enough. The castle, while loud and cheery during the day, was eerie and still at night. Lurtz knew that a good henchman had to be good at running around at night, a lot of dubious operations took place in the darkness, but he had so far avoided many nighttime missions. A mere feeling of being unnerved, however, was no match for Lurtz's indomitable will, and he soldiered on just behind his boss.

Every so often, Ron would pull them into some cranny or nook and they would "hide" there, silently, before Ron would give the all clear and they would keep moving. This kept Lurtz on his toes, and it made the adventure more interesting. Lurtz felt he was getting rather good at seeing appropriate nooks and such, and was even getting decent at quieting his breath when inside these small places. Ron, being smaller overall, was obviously much better than Lurtz at this task, and this made Lurtz happy. If they ever got caught, at least his boss would have a better chance at getting away than he would.

They were sneaking past an imaginary Filch at the top of a staircase when Ron bugged his eyes and pulled Lurtz into a nearby classroom. Ron put a finger to his lips, Lurtz quieted his breathing as best he could, and through the crack in the door, they saw a very real Filch and his weird cat walking by. The two caretakers didn't seem to notice the two boys hiding inches from the hallway, and left them alone, Filch muttering about rusty spikes and delicious screams as he passed.

After waiting an additional minute or so, to be safe, Ron and Lurtz let out their held breaths and looked around the room. It seemed a fairly normal classroom; desks, chairs, a chalkboard, and some unused books lying scattered around. Then Lurtz's eye was caught by a large _something_ in the corner of the room, under a large tarp. He nudged Ron and jerked his chin at it. Ron's eyes widened and a grin that Lurtz was starting to recognize spread across Ron's face.

The two boys approached the large thing and together pulled the tarp off of what they saw was a mirror. The mirror rose to about twice as tall as Ron, and was a magnificent thing. Thick, obviously expensive, wood circled the unrealistically pristine mirror, ending in two clawed feet, reminiscent of something Lurtz wasn't familiar with. There was some writing at the top of it all: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Ron and Lurtz stood transfixed as they stared at the Mirror.

"That's..." Lurtz began again, "That's not a regular mirror, is it, sir?"

Ron absently shook his head.

"Are you seeing things that aren't there, too, sir?"

Ron absently nodded.

"What do you see, sir?"

Ron waited a moment before answering, to make sure he saw everything the Mirror was showing him. "I see..." He blinked and looked closer. "I see myself. But older. I'm wearing a weird sort of green and silver robe. I..." He took a breath. "I think I'm the King of Slytherin. And there's a large group of people standing around me, wearing badges." Ron glanced quickly at Lurtz and then back again. "Do you think this thing tells us the future? Do you think I'll be King of Slytherin?"

Lurtz shrugged. "We Lurtzs don't go in much for prophecy, sir, but I'll do my darnedest to see you as King of Slytherin, or my name isn't Lurtz!"

Ron grinned at his friend. "What do you see?"

Lurtz's eyes glazed over a bit. "Well, it's strange, sir. I see the same thing as you." He squinted a bit to look closer. "Only, I'm standing right there next to you."

* * *

As a rule, it was Daisy that was the energetic, crazy one, and Harry was the calmer, dryer one in their dynamic. This was reversed only one day a year: Christmas. Ever since he could remember, Harry had a deep, passionate love for Christmas that even Daisy's energy could not diminish. Every year, he would bound into her room and jump on her bed until she woke up. Then, they'd together ambush their sleepy parents and drag them bodily into the living room to open presents. The ritual was finished with Harry dragging all of the presents into the center of the room and passing them out individually, only stopping when one of his relatives would force him to open one himself.

This year was no different. Harry awoke at the wee hour of five o'clock in the morning and, heedless of the indecency of it all, launched himself into Daisy's room and onto her bed.

"Wake up!" He yelled at the sleeping form.

"Every year?" mumbled the pile of blanket, "Every bloody year?"

"That's right!" Harry chirped, as always getting a kick out of the tables turning, "Now get out of bed and we'll go get the others!"

"Ughhh, fine," Daisy groaned as she pulled herself out of her bed, her hair pointing out at odd angles, and her nightgown unkempt. "Don't expect me to be like you, though."

Harry grinned at her. "I never do!"

He pulled her by the hand down the hallway to the master bedroom and, together, they burst in on a sleeping Vernon and Petunia. Daisy, while not quite as cheerful or enthusiastic as Harry, had long ago mastered the art of brutal efficiency in waking her parents, and not five minutes later, the whole family was trudging down the stairs. Harry, meanwhile, practically leapt down them and was already divvying up the presents when the others arrived and took their seats.

The opening of presents was special this year, as Harry had been able to utilize both Diagon Alley and Hermione's knowledge of little enchantments to obtain the best presents.

Daisy received, to her utter delight, a small, glass rose that turned into a dragon when she picked it up. Harry thought that it matched her personality to a tee. Vernon received several current issues of Muggle Dress Weekly, a little known magazine that assumed Muggle fashion hadn't evolved in the last hundred or so years. Vernon got more than a few chuckles out of it, and also realized why the Muggle Liaison Office had been so interested in him. Petunia received a magical fertilizer that guaranteed "Surprisingly Robust" and "Intriguingly Delicious" crops. She secretly decided that Harry would be helping her out with planting her summer crop, just in case there was anything _wrong_ with the fertilizer.

Harry opened a few presents, nothing too extraordinary, though he did get a mechanical picture frame that swapped between three different pictures every minute or so. As Vernon opened the last present on the pile, however, Daisy squealed and pointed at a package that certainly hadn't been there five minuted ago. Petunia and Vernon looked at each other with worried expressions, but Harry quickly picked it up and looked at the tag. It was to him, but there was no indication as to who it was from.

"What is it, son?" asked Vernon.

Harry shrugged. "The card says it's from my other parents, but it doesn't say who sent it."

"Oooooh, ghost present, from the realms beyooooooond!" said Daisy, eyes wide and voice spooky.

A quick withering look from Harry quieted her and Harry began opening his last present. The wrapping paper revealed a smallish white box. Harry quickly got the box open and pulled out a strange, silvery, almost liquid, fabric that immediately ran through his fingers and pooled on the floor. Harry picked it up again, careful to hold onto it this time, and shook it out to get an idea of its shape. When he held it up, it seemed to be a rather large robe of some sort.

"It's beautiful," breathed Petunia, "Go on, Harry, try it on!"

Harry twirled the robe around the back of his head with a flourish and a wink, and promptly disappeared.

There was a brief, awkward silence before Harry asked, "Well? How do I look?"

"We...don't know," said Daisy hesitantly.

"Oh come on, I can take it!" replied Harry, "Just tell me if it looks awful!"

"No, my boy," attempted Vernon, "We don't know because we can't see you."

After a moment of confusion, Harry popped back into the living room and looked at the robe suspiciously.

"Is this like that story about the emperor?" he asked shrewdly, "Because you told me _that_ one a long time ago."

"Here." Daisy strode forward and, in a quick sweep of fabric, took the robe and put it on herself, vanishing just as Harry had.

Harry felt his mouth drop open.

There, where his cousin had been standing was now an empty void. There was no suggestion of her presence, yet there was no doubt that she was there when she began gloating and egging Harry on. Harry's mind was boggled. This couldn't be a cheap gift, even if it was his father's. Who would be generous enough to gift it to him, especially with no mention of a sender? Harry resolved to immediately write to both Ron and Hermione about this.

Even after Christmas dinner came and went, and Harry was in bed, he was still thinking about the robe. Except now, he was thinking about the fun he'd be able to have with it, and the joy his friends would be able to share with him. He imagined really _exploring_ Hogwarts with his friends in a way that no one would have been able to do before. He reasoned that this sort of thing couldn't be commonplace and that it had to be expensive enough that a father wouldn't just give it to a child. And that would give him and his friends an unparalleled shot to hang out _all the time_, not just outside of classes.

Regardless, he thought as he drifted off, _this_ was a game changer.

* * *

**AN: Wooooooo longest chapter! I think. Anyway, I'm back and weekly or bi-weekly is the goal for now. Hound me if I fail you. Let me know what you think! :)**


	13. Chapter 13: Readjustment

**A/N: Second semester will go **_**so**_** much faster than first. Like embarrassingly so. I'm looking at chapter 16 or so being the end, followed by all of the little extra stories. Most of those will be about Daisy, probably, but there may be others too, if I think of them. As always, if you have a cool idea, let me know!**

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the holidays laughing with his family and relishing the feeling of being back home on Privet Drive. As much as he liked Hogwarts, Harry was grateful to take a break from all of the weirdness and all of the things he didn't understand. Privet Drive was delightfully normal, and his family was just as he remembered them, except perhaps for Daisy telling more stories involving Ginny. Petunia and Vernon made the stay as comfortable as they could, even going as far as canceling some of Harry's more laborious chores.

Time flew by and it seemed like no time at all passed before Harry was being driven back to King's Cross with an uncharacteristically sad Daisy in the backseat. No one was talking and Harry took to staring out of the window to pass the time. As they got closer and closer to London, Harry watched the buildings get bigger and more urban, stretching further and further into the gray skyline. He wondered if the sky would be prettier in Scotland. He wondered how Ron was doing.

Before long, Vernon parked the car in the King's Cross parking lot and everyone got out. Harry laboriously pulled his trunk out of the boot of the car, silently shaking his head at Vernon's offer of help. As the four of them walked into the train station, Petunia and Vernon began talking about something Harry didn't understand; some adult thing he didn't have to worry about yet. Harry mused, with no little bit of amusement, that there would be quite a few things that he wouldn't have to worry about. He turned to say this to Daisy, but she was staring straight ahead, oblivious to him.

When Harry walked up to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, Vernon stopped him from going through. "You don't have to get on for another forty five minutes or so, why don't we all have a bite before we send you off, eh?"

Harry grinned. "All right!"

Vernon led them to a nearby diner, "The Fat Sparrow," and asked for a table for them all. A tired-looking teenaged waitress grabbed four menus, intoned a bored "Right this way, then," and began walking away.

Harry was about to follow her, when Daisy grabbed his arm. "Hey, can I talk to you?"

Vernon and Petunia followed the waitress, leaving Harry and Daisy alone at the front of the diner. "Sure," he said, "What's up?"

"I just wanted to thank you again for my present." Daisy was looking away from Harry, at the floor, and seemed to be chewing on her lip.

Harry frowned. "You already thanked me like ten times. What's really wrong?"

Daisy shifted her weight. "It's just..." She began again, "Will it still work when you're gone?"

Harry chuckled. "Of course it will! And if it doesn't, you can just send it to me and I'll fix it."

Daisy gave him a withering look. "That's not what I mean." She took a deep breath. "You know how it changes, right?"

Harry nodded.

"And it changes back after, you know?"

Harry nodded again.

"What if, like, it stays changed?" Daisy looked into his eyes. "What if it stays changed and doesn't ever change back to the way it was before?" She paused. "It's awesome that it can change, but I really want it to change back, too."

Harry thought briefly about the enchantments Hermione had placed on the glass rose. "Well, I don't think you have to worry. It will always change back." He grinned. "Besides, all you have to do is just put it down and it'll change back."

Daisy frowned in confusion. After a moment of thinking, she sighed. "Thanks, Harry. That...helped, I think."

Harry and Daisy, who looked much better, walked over to where Vernon and Petunia were sitting. Harry knew that this would be the last "normal" meal he'd be able to have for a while, and he was eager to enjoy it. He ordered a traditional English breakfast, and savored every bite. Daisy held most of the conversation, excitedly talking about what she'd do at school and the like, encouraged by Vernon and Petunia. They had noticed that their daughter had been growing sadder and sadder, as Harry's departure grew closer and closer, and were pleasantly surprised that her energy seemed to be back.

After they ate, Harry and his family walked back to the platform and crossed into the Wizarding World with no incident, except Daisy stopping halfway through and turning sideways. The platform was busy, as Harry expected it to be, with young wizards saying goodbye to their parents and guardians. Harry quickly said goodbye to his family, got hugs and kisses from them all, and ran onto the train to find a compartment. He quickly found the same compartment he and Hermione had shared on their way back from Hogwarts, and to his surprise found that it was empty. After a few minutes, Hermione walked in and swung her trunk up onto the rack. She immediately pulled a book out of her bag and delved into it.

Harry sighed.

The train began moving and Harry waved at his family as they slowly, and then more and more quickly, lagged behind the train. After the train was out of the station and steadily chugging its way to Hogwarts, Harry again turned his attention to Hermione. She was reading a book called "Sense and Sensibility" and Harry wondered what sort of magic it was about. Time passed. Harry became increasingly agitated. He couldn't understand why Hermione was ignoring him so much. After what seemed like an eternity, but was really more like forty five minutes, Harry decided he'd had enough.

"So, Hermione, how was your-" Harry began.

"Fine," was the sharp reply.

Harry paused, stung. What was this? "What did you-"

"Books," came the equally short answer.

"I was gonna say," Harry said, a little heat to his voice, "What did you eat for breakfast this morning?"

Hermione looked up from her book and Harry saw that she wasn't angry, rather she was feeling some other emotion he couldn't readily identify. "Eggs and toast, Harry. Eggs and toast."

Harry brightened a bit. Progress! "I, uh, got you a Christmas present." He reached down to pull the box out of his bag.

"Harry, wait." Harry looked up at Hermione's tone.

"What?" He had never heard her sound like that.

"I just..." She looked around the compartment, trying to decide what to say, "I want to apologize, I guess." She looked down at the floor.

Harry tilted his head. "For what?"

Hermione heaved a deep sigh. "For what happened at my house during the dinner. And for how I treated you the day after your detention." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I've been a bad friend and I'm sorry."

Harry didn't know how to respond. "I...don't think so. Like," he thought for a second, "My story was sad, it makes sense that you would cry."

"No, I was a bad hostess!" exclaimed Hermione. "A hostess always puts her guests above herself and I failed in that regard."

"I don't think so," Harry said, "I had a great time at your house."

"You would have had a better time if I had been there, right?" she asked.

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, "But that's not the point."

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

Harry got up and sat next to her. "See, you being ok is more important than you being a good hostess."

"What?" Hermione asked. That didn't make sense. Being a hostess was her _job_ to do and she had done it _badly_.

"I don't care about having a good time if it makes you miserable." Harry snapped his fingers. "Remember when you told me about the book?"

Hermione nodded, apprehensive.

"That was super fun!" Harry grinned at the memory. "I got to learn all about my parents and my family and stuff. See, then we had fun and you weren't miserable."

Hermione nodded. "I wasn't a hostess then, though."

Harry shook his head. "Then don't ever be a hostess again! I want you to be my friend who I have fun with. I don't want you to be sad."

Hermione's face lit with the brightest smile he had ever seen her have.

"Now, I have something for you," Harry said, grabbing the box from his previous seat, "Happy Christmas, Hermione!"

Still smiling, Hermione took the box and carefully unwrapped it. Inside, she found reams and reams of blank paper. "Th-thanks, Harry. It's...wonderful." She tried her best to sound grateful.

"No, no, let me show you how it works!" Harry said, "Do you have a pen?"

She gave him one and he scribbled some doodles on the paper. He pulled it out of the box. "Now, crumple it."

She did, and was amazed to see the writing disappear.

"Now, flatten it on your lap." Harry grinned in anticipation.

When she did so, the paper was left pristine on her lap, not even a crinkle to be seen.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "How did you do this? It's wonderful!"

Harry grinned. "I asked Cedric and Felicity to help me with the spells. Together, they figured out the counter-spell to _Supercorrio_ and applied it directly to the paper."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry scratched the back of his head. "I knew the gift wouldn't be complete if I didn't remember how they did it all."

Hermione gave him a one-armed hug, which surprised him, and he hurried to reciprocate. "You knew correctly. Thanks." She thought for a moment. "Harry, did you do your homework?"

* * *

Five hours later, Harry had, indeed, finished his homework. It had been grueling work, and Hermione was strict taskmaster, but just as they arrived, he finished it. They quickly changed into their robes and exited with all of the other students. Harry and Hermione were a bit lost when they realized that they would not be taking the boats this time, but a trail of older students led them to the horseless carriages that ferried the students from Hogsmeade Station to Hogwarts.

The dinner in the Great Hall was delicious and Harry was delighted to see all of his friends again. He'd be spending the evening with his Housemates, so he took the time to greet his friends from the different Houses, Ron and his group in particular. Given his frequent visits, Harry had begun to achieve a real rapport with Ron's friends, especially Tracey Davis, and he enjoyed his visits to the Slytherin Table.

"My holidays were really great, thanks for asking, Abigail," Harry was saying, smiling widely at the timid girl, "I got to spend time with my family, which is-"

"Oh, _Potter_," drawled an irritatingly familiar voice, "What _are_ you-"

"Really the most important thing to me right now," Harry continued, not bothering to look at Draco, but giving Lurtz a significant look. "How was yours?"

The waif looked quickly from Harry to Draco, fear in her eyes, but Harry's warm smile won out. "It's, I mean, it was great, thanks, Harry." She gave him a small, warm smile.

"Now," Harry said, turning, "Blaco Ralfoy, what can I do for you?" Harry stared at Draco seriously, as though they would be negotiating a business deal.

Draco took a deep breath before replying. "Potter, you'll _pay_ for that." He pulled out his wand, but Ron intervened.

"Hey, hey, now," Ron said, grabbing Malfoy's arm, and quickly glancing at the Head Table, "You don't want to go grabbing McGonagall's attention, do you?"

Draco looked at Ron incredulously. "What do you think you're doing, Weasely?"

"Stopping both you and my friend from doing something stupid." Ron gave Draco a significant look, then turned and winked at Harry.

Draco frowned. "I suppose this _is_ a rather bad place and time for a fight." He shrugged dramatically. "It makes no difference. I'll see you later, _Potty_."

Harry sighed. "Goodbye, Talfoy." He turned to Ron. "Why, mate? I was ready that time."

Ron shook his head. "Listen, mate, you need to be careful if you want to attack Malfoy. McGonagall will punish you even harder next time."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, then closed it and nodded. "You're right. Thanks."

Ron grinned and clapped Harry on the arm. "Anytime. Listen!" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Lurtz and I found something on Christmas. Something I want to show you."

Harry grinned. "It better be as good as you're making it sound right now."

Ron looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall. "Mate, it's even better."

Classes started up the next day, much to Harry and the rest of the Hufflepuffs' consternation. The whole House had been up _way_ too late the night before doing all of their holiday homework together. Harry had tried to tell Hermione on the train that this would happen, and that he didn't need to do his homework. She had been scandalized, and had immediately forced Harry to do everything. When he had shown this to his Housemates, they had immediately moved his homework to his room, so as to remove the temptation to cheat. Harry wandered the Common Room, watching all of his Housemates work together to answer the many questions, and it was bittersweet. On the one hand, he could relax, on the other he could not talk to, or help, his housemates.

The teachers were _very_ quick to remind the first years about their upcoming exams and how _very important_ they were. Every teacher except one, that is. Severus Snape merely leered at his students, much the same way he always did, and casually flicked instructions onto the chalkboard with his wand. While Harry was brewing his Crowing Concoction, and trying his level best to ignore the horrible caterwauling from Terry Boot's cauldron, Snape swept up and down the class, critiquing and adjusting the various Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws' potions. However, when he billowed past Harry, the Potions Master had nothing to say.

This was new. For the whole of Fall, Snape had been an absolute terror to the whole class, and to see him being downright helpful was worrying. He even helped Terry figure out what had been done incorrectly without even deducting any points, something that had _never_ happened before. The most ominous, to Harry at least, was the silence. He knew his Concoction was not perfect, mostly because Hermione's was, and he knew that Snape definitely saw that too. Every time the Potions Master swept by Harry's cauldron and failed to say anything, Harry's nerves grew tighter.

Thus, Harry was extremely on edge when the period ended and everyone turned in their potions. Snape acknowledged their work with barely a nod, and everyone turned to leave. "Wait, please."

Everyone turned, shocked at the tone their most hated teacher used.

"A foot on the many uses of this potion, to be turned in Monday next," Snape said, "Also, Mr. Potter, a moment, if you please?"

No less than twenty pairs of concerned eyes darted to Harry, who was frozen. It _had _to be about what he spoke with Professor Sprout about. Harry glanced around at his classmates and nodded, forcing a smile to his lips. The rest of the Hufflepuffs, and the single Ravenclaw who shared their concern for Harry, left the dungeon reluctantly.

Snape gestured for Harry to approach his desk, then tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked as he walked down the walkway bisecting the room. "Something wrong?"

"Not exactly, no," Snape pulled out his wand and absentmindedly conjured a chair for Harry to sit down. "You see, Mr. Potter, a rather _interesting_ fact was given to me just before Christmas."

Harry braced himself.

"But you surely know what that fact was, don't you?" Snape was looking at Harry through half-closed eyes.

Harry briefly debated with himself about the merits of lying versus telling the truth, then he saw Snape's eyes. The beady, black points quickly convinced him to tell the truth. "Yes, sir. You were punishing my father, your enemy, by detracting points from his House, rather than mine. Also, you picked on my especially because you thought I was my father's son."

Snape grinned. It was _unnerving_. "Very good, Potter, fifteen points to Gryffindor."

Harry balked.

Snape shrugged. "It was pointed out to me that this has been rather _unfair._ Do you agree?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir!"

"Again, well done, Potter," Snape said, "Another fifteen points to Gryffindor."

"Thanks, sir," Harry said, realizing what Snape was doing, "I appreciate this."

Professor Snape opened his eyes in shock before slowly shaking his head, a rare genuine smile stretching his lips. "How wrong I was, Mr. Potter."

"Harry," Harry said quickly, "Call me Harry."

"Harry it is, then." Snape stood. "You may go, Harry."

Harry walked slowly out of the room, his mind swimming with the conversation.

* * *

**AN: 3 more chapters till the end! Thanks for sticking with me so far, and I really hope you enjoy the story as a whole!**


	14. Chapter 14: Dragons!

**AN: This is an action-heavy chapter! Should be a nice change of pace from the more personality-driven previous chapters. I realize that time is a bit confusing in this story, and I sorry, but there were just a certain amount of things I had to do, and a limited time frame for them to be done in.**

**KOTORgeek13: Like I said, we nipped the hatred in the bud. I'm glad you like it. :)**

**Guest: It'll probably be a bit more complicated than one being liked and the other being hated, but I **_**can**_** say that the perspectives on James will remain fairly similar to canon.**

* * *

The morning of his game against Slytherin, Harry was treated to the uniquely hilarious sight of Hagrid trying to look inconspicuous. The giant man was leaning against a wall outside the Great Hall, whistling nonchalantly, and switching between staring airily at the ceiling and looking for Harry. The students milled around him, some staring, others ignoring, all going towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Hagrid occasionally patted a student or two on the head, or nodded to one, but his eyes are sweeping for Harry.

When Harry caught his eye, Hagrid surreptitiously made his way over, treading several smaller students underfoot in the process. "Hello, Harry," Hagrid smiled, "How are you?"

Harry briefly glanced around Hagrid to make sure the fallen students were unharmed. "Yeah, fine, Hagrid," Harry said, grinning at the large man, "Just going to eat a bite of breakfast before the game!"

"Oh, right, the big game against Slytherin, eh?" Hagrid asked, winking, "Good luck, Harry. Listen." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I have something interesting to show you back at my hut."

Harry brightened. "Brilliant! Can I bring Ron and Hermione?"

Hagrid thought for a second. "Sure you can. Come over round about sundown, yeah?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah! Well," he gestured at the Hall, "I should probably get in there and eat something. See you later, Hagrid!"

"Right you are, Harry," Hagrid clapped a heavy hand on the younger boy's shoulder, "See you later!"

Harry waved at his large friend as he jogged into the Great Hall, excitement growing at what Hagrid would show him later.

* * *

"Right, Ron," said George, "What sort prank should pull?"

The three brothers were in an unused classroom, sitting around on dusty desks. Much to Ron's amazement, his two older brothers had discovered a strange quirk of Hogwarts' unused classrooms: there was always another unused classroom attached somewhere to each other. Currently, they were three rooms deep, meaning that if someone was following them, that person would have to follow their exact path through two other identical unused classrooms. When the brothers were done, however, they could just walk out the front door and be somewhere else in the castle.

"Well," Ron said, tapping a finger against his cheek, "We have to hit McFornal where it hurts: his bloody pride."

Fred and George shared a nervous look. "Listen, Ronniekins, you have to know who you're going up against," said Fred, "McFornal's the-"

"I know." Ron looked up at his brothers. "I know what he is, I know who he is. Remember who's in the House with him?" He sighed. "He's even already tried to take me down once, remember?"

Fred and George nodded. "Right," said George, "We know."

"And we want to take him down a peg too," Fred said, "But!"

"We can't go easy on him," George agreed, "Or he'll just take us out after."

Ron nodded. "I think I have an idea."

The brothers adopted twin expectant expressions. "Enlighten us, Ronniekins." The unison voices made Ron shiver.

"Well, basically I want to lock him out of Slytherin for the night." Ron stood up and began pacing. "See, the Slytherin Common Room lets Slytherins in based on blood. If we can mess up that enchantment somehow, he won't be able to get in."

Fred and George shared a brief look of nostalgic pride at their brother's first prank idea. "That sounds _devious_, Ron," Fred gasped, "That will definitely show him."

Ron smirked. "Thanks."

George tapped Fred on the shoulder. "What do you think, mate? A Tom Sawyer with a dash of The Wizard of Oz?"

Fred thought for a second. "I have an Empire State Building that I've really been meaning to try."

George's face lit up. "The one with the Hotdog Apple Pie?"

Fred nodded. "Yeah, that's the one."

George looked at Ron. "Should we keep everyone out or just McFornal?"

Ron, a bit lost as to what his brothers were saying, shook himself and answered, "Yeah, just him. I don't fancy sleeping on the floor very much."

"Right, so maybe no Apple Pie with the Hotdog," Fred said, "But the Tom Sawyer Hotdog Empire State Building should be fine."

George nodded. "That's it, dear brother of mine. Should we add Mustard?"

Fred shrugged. "That would probably be the easiest way to Hotdog it."

Now, Ron knew what most of those words meant separately, but he had _no_ idea of what his brothers were talking about.

George clapped his twin on the back, and received one himself, "Right, then, let's get started!"

"What do I need to do?" asked Ron.

"Just bring us something that belongs to McFornal," Fred said, "And it doesn't have to be important to him, so don't go too crazy."

Ron nodded, a savage grin etching itself onto his face. His brothers thought that this was just a silly, immature prank, and that was just the way Ron wanted it. If McFornal was locked out of Slytherin for even a night, it would prove to the whole House that he was unfit to lead it. It would prove that he was unworthy of even _being_ a Slytherin. It would, ultimately, prove Ron's commanding leadership of his year, and even those above his year.

It was the first step to being King of Slytherin.

* * *

Harry and Cedric walked out to pitch together, discussing strategy. Slytherin would be a very difficult opponent as their Chasers were quite above average. The February morning was still cold, but Harry's excitement at playing again, and his looking forward to whatever Hagrid had to show them warmed him right up. Ever since the disappointment of Ron's mysterious discovery being moved somewhere, Harry had only his homework and practice to focus on, and he was glad that Hagrid would have something interesting and new for him to see.

After the team was changed, they all walked out onto the pitch, opposite their opponents, and took in the day. It was overcast and windy, something that would be very beneficial to Harry, as the sun could not get into his eyes and the wind would affect the Quaffle a _lot_ more than it would affect him. Cedric grinned at Harry and gave his shoulder a playful nudge before gesturing around at the weather and sky. Harry smirked back.

To the team's surprise, only four Slytherin members walked out of their dressing room. Captain immediately ran over to Madam Hooch and started pointing at the opposing team, as their Captain, Bletchley, Harry thought, also ran up to the referee. Before long, Madam Hooch had to physically restrain the two captains from charging each other. She blew her whistle and sent them both back to their teams.

"What's up?" asked Tara, when Captain had trudged back over to his team.

"Bloody snakes," muttered Captain, "Apparently, all of their Chasers were 'incapacitated' right after arriving back at school and, as such, aren't ready for today's game."

Cedric frowned darkly.

"But, isn't that a good thing?" Emily asked, "Aren't their Chasers really good?"

Captain shook his head. "That's not the point, Em, they waited too long to alert the authorities, which should disqualify them, but because of who their parents are, they _will_ get to play."

Harry tilted his head. "Who are their parents?"

Captain looked at Harry confused, then realization dawned. "I forget you're new." He pointed to their green and silver opponents. "See those four?"

Harry nodded.

"All of their parents are on the Board of Governors that run Hogwarts. They get whatever they want." Captain's voice was bitter.

Harry frowned. "But that's not fair."

"Exactly," said one of the Beaters darkly, "But power doesn't care about fairness."

"Right you are, Bradley," said Captain, "And, like it or not, we have to play them."

Harry was frowning now, incensed like the rest of them.

"But on a practical note," Cedric said, "These Chasers will probably be lots worse than their starters."

* * *

Harry scanned the pitch from his perch in the air. His current save percentage was 100%, and he only knew that because he was one for one. Cedric was not kidding when he had said that these Chasers would be worse. Harry could count the times they held onto the Quaffle longer than ten seconds on one hand; the only time they had made it into scoring range, the two Slytherin Beaters had _illegally_ swept in and helped the Chasers along. A strict lecture from Madam Hooch ensured _that_ was a one time thing.

Captain put the Quaffle away for a ridiculous 390 – 0 score after forty five minutes. Harry mused that _perhaps_ making the Snitch the only way to end the game was a tad silly. There were no cheers from the crowd anymore. Even the air had died down and just sat still, as unenthused as the spectators of this game.

The commentary of Harry's first game had been exhilarating, pushing him to ever greater heights to make the commentator describe them, but this time, there were multiple long pauses of silence. Captain was the only one not giving in to the doldrums, still racing across the field, swerving around and skillfully putting points away. It was strangely inspiring to watch, though even _that_ became dull eventually. Harry almost wished his broom would start bucking again, just for _something_ to happen.

When Emily put away the fortieth goal, lethargically, bringing the score up to 400 – 0, Harry saw Cedric begin diving out of the corner of his eye. The sharp movement snapped the crowd awake and the commentator began loudly explaining the mechanics and dangers of Cedric's current dive. Fortunately, or not, Cedric's opposing Seeker had dozed off on his broom, leaving the drive for the Snitch entirely in Cedric's hands.

"Harry!" Captain called, "Heads up!"

Harry blinked and, suddenly, there was a substitute Chaser about three seconds away from scoring. Harry clapped his hands back on the broom and repositioned himself in the middle of the hoops. The Quaffle came flying from the Chaser's hands, almost in slow motion. Harry saw the rotation on the scarlet ball and just had time to note how amateurish the throw was before he was grabbing it with both hands and pulling it to his chest.

Cheers and screams erupted, and Harry held up his conquest in triumph, but he soon saw that the cheers were for Cedric finally catching the Snitch.

The deciding score was 550 – 0.

* * *

Quickly excusing himself from the Hufflepuff victory party was not as hard as it could have been, but still took longer than Harry would have liked. In the rush from the pitch to the castle, Harry had told Ron and Hermione to meet him at Hagrid's hut at sundown, and the sun was just heading down now. Harry would have to run.

Harry made it to the hut just as Ron and Hermione were being let in. Hagrid's hut was small and cramped on the best of days, but today was especially bad. There was a large, black cauldron sitting in the back of the room, thick black smoke rising from it into the chimney. Hagrid walked around the large wooden table and sat opposite the door, revealing what he had, no doubt, wanted to show them. In the middle of the table was a large, black egg. It was smoking, a similar color to the smoke rising from the cauldron, and even from the doorway, Harry could feel the heat coming off of it.

"What the bloody-" Ron gasped.

"Hagrid, is that-" Hermione breathed.

Harry had nothing to say and just stared at the large egg.

"Shhh," Hagrid put a finger to his lips, "Any time now!"

Harry was about to ask what they were looking for when a small_ crack_ sounded in the silence of the hut. Harry saw a small line running from the top of the egg to about the middle, a hair's width. Hermione and Ron were transfixed. Hagrid looked like he was about to cry. There was another, louder, _crack _and a much more pronounced line forked off the first one, off around the top. Smoke began billowing out of the crack, black as the egg's shell. More and more cracks began popping up all over the shell, and soon enough, a small head pushed through the wreckage of shell. Before long, there was a small winged lizard standing in front of them all. It was black from head to tail, its wings lightening to the sort of dirty gray that reminded Harry of the sky on his way to King's Cross.

"Blimey, Hagrid," said Ron, "That's a _dragon_."

"A _Draconacus Norvegicus_, to be exact," Hermione added, still dumbstruck.

"Norbert!" cried Hagrid, tears in his eyes, "You're perfect!" He reached out and pulled the dragon into a hug. The dragon let out a squeak and a little spark which caught on Hagrid's beard. Still holding the dragon, Hagrid casually put out the fire with a massive hand and cradled the little beast.

The three children and Hagrid sat in amazement for a fair while, all staring at the marvelous beast. Hagrid began cooing at it and muttering sweet nothings at the thing currently tearing up his beard. "And I'll never let you go, oh no I won't," Hagrid muttered.

"You have to," Hermione said, pulling herself out of the shock at seeing a real, live dragon, "You can't keep that thing, Hagrid."

"He's not a _thing_," Hagrid stated loudly, "He's Norbert, and he's beautiful."

"You'll get _fired_," Hermione hissed, "And that is _not_ a pet."

"Everything's a pet!" Hagrid cried, defensively holding the dragon away from Hermione, "I hatched him, he's mine!"

"It's _illegal_, Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed, "You could go to _jail_!"

"Yeah, mate," said Ron, "It's extremely illegal to own your own dragon. Ever since Bertrand the Burnt, remember?"

Hagrid's face fell. "I know. I know I can't keep him, but it's always been my dream to have a dragon."

Harry, up to this point utterly amazed and completely unable to voice an opinion, said, "Surely you could get updates from whoever we give him to."

Three pairs of eyes shot to Harry and he shrugged.

"You know," said Ron slowly, "My brother Charlie works at a dragon reserve in Romania." He grinned. "I'm sure I could get him here to take Norbert of your hands."

Hagrid sulked. "I don't like it."

Harry patted the overly large shoulder. "I know, Hagrid, but it's for the best." He glanced down. "Besides, your beard is almost completely gone."

* * *

A few days later, at around eleven at night, Harry snuck out of the Common Room in his Invisibility Robe. He stalked his way, slowly and quietly, to the main foyer of Hogwarts. There were Ron and Hermione crouching together in the shadows of a pillar. Harry crept over to them and popped his head out of the Robe.

Twin bloodcurdling shrieks pierced the silence of foyer.

"Shhhh!" Harry held a finger to his lips. "Quick! Get under here!"

Ron shook Hermione's shoulder, pulling her out of her stupor, and they both ducked under Harry's Robe. Thus hidden, they all slowly opened the large doors at the entrance of the castle and stepped out, into the night.

The three ranged onto the grounds. Harry did not know if it was the Robe or the moon, but the night was a lot easier to see than he had been expecting. The grass held no potholes or roots to trip them up, and they made great progress across the moonlit landscape.

Not ten minutes later, the trio arrived at Hagrid's hut. The large man opened the door at their knock and looked far out into the night, a hand unnecessarily shading his eyes. A slight tap on his arm alerted Hagrid to their invisible presence, and he turned back inside his hut. A few minutes later, Hagrid brought out a large wicker basket and held it out of his hut's door, a good foot to the left of the trio. Ron cautiously reached out, keeping his hand under the robe, and took the basket.

Their package in hand, the three began the long and arduous task of getting to the top of the Astronomy Tower before midnight. Maintaining absolute silence the entire way was incredibly difficult, and more than once, they all had to stop to catch their breath. Harry glanced at the purely mechanical watch Vernon had bought him, glad that his Uncle had not listened to him, and it read 11:45. Chancing some speech, Harry whispered, "We only have fifteen minutes. We need to hurry."

His companions, though winded, nodded their agreement. Once again under the cloak, the trio quickly made their way through the darkened school. After a few wrong turns, more than one unruly staircase, and one _particularly_ hard to see false step, the trio made their way onto the Astronomy Tower with but a minute to spare.

Harry removed the robe and put it into a pocket. He wandered around the top of the Tower, to be sure no one else was there, and then moved back to his friends. Still, no one talked, just in case, and the seconds grew into minutes, stretching into even the tens of minutes. Harry's worry grew with each ticking second, and his concern was matched by Ron and Hermione, if their faces were any indication. The trio sat at the top of the tower, tapping their feet, but otherwise making no sound, waiting for the arrival of Charlie Weasely and a few of his friends.

At precisely thirty minutes after midnight, Harry saw a strange blot in the stars. Silently, he nudged Ron and Hermione and pointed up into the sky. After a moment, his two friends also saw the blot, and stood up, smiles stretching their tired lips. The blots grew bigger and bigger, separating into several distinct shapes on brooms. A few minutes later, they all landed.

The leader of the group drew his wand and made a vague circle with it, muttering, "_Silencio_."

Harry picked up the wicker basket and walked over to the group, followed by Ron and Hermione.

"Are you Harry Potter?" asked the caster, pulling off his black mask.

Harry nodded.

"You can talk now, I Silenced this area," the man said, gesturing around the top of the Tower.

"Then yes, I am Harry. Who are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm Charlie Weasely." The man stuck his hand out. "Nice to meet you." He looked around. "Now, where's my brother?!" He called.

Ron grinned and jumped at his older brother, who caught him and swung him around in a wide circle. "Charlie!"

While the two brothers had their reunion, the other three dragon tamers introduced themselves to Harry.

"Hello, Harry," said one, taking off her mask, "I am Ingrid. Is nice meeting you, Living Boy."

Harry smiled back. "Nice to meet you too, Ingrid."

Another figure stepped forward and took off his mask. "Bonjour, Monsieur Potter, I am called Aldric Delacour." The _strangely_ attractive man took Harry's hand and bowed deeply.

"Ah, um, hello Aldric," Harry stumbled a bit over the words, "Nice to meet you."

The last tamer took a bit longer to come over, but soon her mask was off, and Harry could just see her blushing cheeks. "U-um, I'm Tiffany," she stammered, "A pleasure, Mr. Potter."

Harry chuckled. "Harry, please, Tiffany."

"H-Harry, then," she backed away, smiling a bit, "I'll see you around, Harry."

Soon enough, the tamers took the basket, mounted their brooms, and were off. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all waved them off, until the dark blots were invisible amongst the stars.

"Well, then," Harry said, "Shall we head back to our Rooms?"

* * *

**AN: Wooooo! Inspiration hit me and this happened. What do you think of it all? Is it good? :D**


	15. Chapter 15: The Descent

**Geetac's number of liked chapters: 9**

**MoonBurner: I'm not planning on that **_**particular**_** plot point, but I also can't promise that it won't happen with a minor character or two. Harry won't, though.**

**AN: This is it! The last one, the finale! Thanks so much for sticking with me through all of this. It's been a real pleasure going through this experience with all of you. Stick around for my various little anecdotes from the year that I didn't get to write in plot, remember you can suggest them if you want, and look for the 2****nd**** book, Hermione the Ravenclaw, towards the beginning of September or so!**

* * *

Time flew by for Harry and his friends after sending Norbert off to be with his own kind. Harry found himself adjusting to the routine of class, homework, practice, and friends much more quickly than he had in the previous semester, and even found time to study for his final exams. Classes got harder and harder, with his professors expecting ever more as the days passed, some of them even requiring practicing spells before class started. Hermione was acing everything, as Harry expected, but it seemed that Ron was falling behind more and more in class. His scores had been in the top ten of their year at the beginning of the year, but his whole group, even, was starting to dip. When Harry asked, Ron just said that he'd learned all of the spells he "needed to" and that "just class" was not worth pushing himself. Harry did not understand that. Hard work for hard work's sake built character, after all!

Ever since Hufflepuff had dominated Slytherin, Harry had become ever more confident on the Quidditch pitch. He was saving shot after shot that his Chasers tossed at him, and he once or twice even made saves that no one was expecting. His arms often hurt a lot after those saves, but the impressed looks on his teammates' faces were well worth the pain. The team was preparing as hard as they could for the upcoming final against Gryffindor. Both teams were undefeated coming into this last game, both knew that one last win would clinch them the cup. Harry spent hours pouring over Captain's notes on the Gryffindor Chasers, their strategies and shooting tactics, and even asked Tara and Emily to try some of them. Their strategy for the game centered around catching the Snitch as quickly as possible, a risky strategy at best. Captain even had Harry doing some lighter weight-lifting to get his muscles up to snuff, in case the game went long.

In this vein, Harry continued to enjoy Hogwarts. The glamor of living in a magical castle and learning how to cast magic was still going strong for Harry , and he eagerly looked forward to each new day. Even Potions, which Harry had been dreading going back to, was becoming relatively positive. Snape was becoming fair, though still _very_ strict, and Harry was really beginning to get a hang for Potions. Soon enough, it was not only Hermione raising her hand in class, though Terry Boot was just as hopeless as ever. Harry even earned the five points Snape always gave at the end of class to the best potion once or twice. Harry thought he saw Snape give a strange sort of smile when this happened, but the older man would quickly adjust his expression and give Harry a sneer.

* * *

The months passed, and Harry found himself in Charms class on a warm day in June. Professor Flitwick was allowing the class to review for the final exams in class, as opposed to making them study in their Common Rooms. As he put it, "It would be much better for you to make a mistake in this classroom, where I am, than in your Common Room, where I am not."

Harry and Neville were going over _Lumos_ together, each taking it in turns to light and extinguish their wands. Neville was, predictably, having trouble.

"Am I doing anything wrong, Harry?" Neville asked, his voice trembling a bit.

"Not that I can see, mate," Harry answered, as puzzled as his friend, "Maybe try my wand?"

Neville gaped. "I _couldn't_, Harry, I couldn't take your _wand_."

"Why not?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"If I take it from you, your wand will _switch elegance_ to me," came Neville's harsh whisper.

Harry frowned. "Are you _sure_ that's what happens?"

Neville thought for a second. "Switch something. Sounds like elegance."

Harry shrugged. "We'll figure it out. Here." He handed Neville his wand.

Neville took the piece of wood tremulously and cradled it as though he might break it. "Are you sure, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

Neville held the wand out in front of himself in preparation for the spell, "_Lu_-"

Just then, the door to the classroom opened and a Gryffindor sixth year walked in.

"Mr. Harcourt, what are you doing here?" Flitwick squeaked indignantly.

"Professor Dumbledore wants to see Neville Longbottom," the boy said, pointing at Neville. "Come on then."

"Right, very good. Off you go, Mr. Longbottom." Flitwick gestured to the door. "Mr. Potter, join another group, if you please."

Harry clapped the scared-looking boy on the shoulder and grinned at him. "Don't worry, Neville, he'll probably call you to go on some adventure or other! And if you need any help, just ask me!"

Neville stood up a bit straighter. "That's right, Harry. I'll see you later." He handed Harry the wand and walked off after Harcourt.

Harry grinned at his Gryffindor friend walking out of the class, then turned and walked over to where Justin, Susan, and Hannah were working.

* * *

"All right, everyone," Ron said, pacing around the small room he had managed to snag for this meeting. Since he had made it known that he was responsible for the damage done to his upperclassmen, it had become increasingly difficult for him to get the time or distance necessary to fill his group in on the prank idea. "The plan is to lock McFornal out of the Common Room for the night. This will let the other Slytherins know that he isn't worthy of the silver and green, and will also cement my claim for Leader of our year."

A hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss Davis, what is it?" Ron asked, pointing at the girl.

"Well, how are you going to manage it, Ron?" she asked, "Surely the doorknob's well-protected against this sort of thing."

Ron nodded. "Indeed it is. I have acquired the help of two who know the magic necessary to bypass those old enchantments. They-"

"Is it Hermione? Or Harry?" asked Tracey, "Only, I'm not sure I agree with forcing them into the danger we'll no doubt face after this."

"It's not them," Ron answered, "The two others are older students and know what they're getting into."

"So they're your brothers?" the girl asked, her eyes narrowing. No Snake wanted to accept help from a Gryffindor.

"Well," Ron looked at Lurtz, who shrugged, "Yes." Upon seeing his classmates' distress, Ron continued. "We have to use all tools at our disposal. We can't underestimate McFornal." Ron began pacing more and more quickly. "Last time, he caught us off guard, and he knows it. He underestimated us, and now he'll think we're overly confident. We need to secure every advantage we can to ensure our victory." Ron stopped moving and stared pointedly at Tracey. "It's like McFornal told me, 'This is Slytherin. Assurance is never pathetic.'"

Tracey blanched at the look on Ron's face. "Wh-what do we have to do?"

Ron smiled at her, the hard look gone. "Well, I've already done it!" He pulled out a tie, standard issue for the Slytherin House. "All my compatriots need is this, and they'll be able to key the enchantments to McFornal alone."

Tracey, Lurtz, and even Triali, were all grinning in anticipation of the sweet, sweet influence their little group was going to gain.

* * *

On the Saturday morning before the week of final exams, Harry was enjoying a rather eclectic breakfast of eggs cooked in soy sauce, eaten in a weird sort of bread pouch, with coffee to drink. Harry's classmates had long since given up trying to explain to him what _respectable _people ate at breakfast and simply attributed it to him being famous and, therefore, weird. While eating, Harry was idly glancing through _The Standard Book of Spells: Year 1_ and ticking off the spells he knew he had down pat, before cross-referencing them with the list of spells he had to know for various classes. When he was finished, there were only five or six spells that Harry really had to worry about, and he still had all of Sunday to worry about those. _Maybe Hermione or Cedric would be on hand to help_, Harry thought to himself, _That would make all of this _so _much easier_.

A friendly voice broke into Harry's musings. "Harry! How are you-" Neville trailed off, "What on earth are you eating?"

"Don't bother, mate," put in Stephen, with a long-suffering nod from Felicity, "What Harry eats is of no concern to the sane."

Neville frowned a little, but shook himself and said, "Harry, can I talk to you?"

Harry nodded. "What's up, mate?"

Neville nodded towards the door of the Great Hall. "Let's talk out there."

Harry shrugged. "What time is it, Felicity?"

The prefect muttered, "_Tempus_." She looked up. "Half past nine."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Tell Ced I'll meet them in the changing room."

"You got it, mate," said Stephen before pointing at Harry with a fork, "Wait! Are you fraternizing with the enemy, Potter?"

Harry slowly nodded. "I suppose I am."

Felicity grinned. "I'm so _proud_ of you, Harry."

Harry chuckled and left the Great Hall, following an utterly confused Neville. Once they were alone, Harry noticed that Neville seemed a bit nervous.

"What is it, mate?" Harry asked.

"You remember when Professor Dumbledore asked for me the other day?" Neville asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well, he wanted me to do something for him," Neville said, twisting the fabric of his dark robe.

Harry grinned. "Told you! What's the adventure?"

Neville gave a small smile. "He wants me to patrol the third floor corridor tonight. He said he heard some students were going to try breaking in."

Harry frowned, remembering the beast that was in that room, and about the Dark thing Fluffykins was protecting. "That _can't_ happen."

Neville tilted his head at Harry's vehemence. "Right. Want to help me patrol? Professor Dumbledore said I could have some friends help me."

Harry stared at the ground, a hard look in his eye. "Yeah. We can't let them in." He looked up at Neville, not even a hint of a smile in his eye. "Can I bring Ron and Hermione as well?"

Neville shrugged. "I suppose. Professor Dumbledore didn't mention them, but it should be fine."

"When?" Harry asked.

"Tonight, obviously, and Dumbledore said around 8 or 9," Neville said.

Harry nodded. "We'll be there. I will, at the very least."

Neville grinned. "Great! I'll see you tonight, then." As he started to walk away, Neville looked back at Harry. "Good luck out there, today!"

Harry nodded and waved.

Harry, despite the lateness of the time, made his way through the Great Hall to the Ravenclaw Table. "Hermione!"

The girl jumped at Harry's tone, and looked up. "_Honestly_, Harry, what is it?"

Harry sat down and, for the first time, noticed that Hermione sat all alone at the table. "Neville's patrolling the third floor corridor tonight and we're going to help him!" Harry whispered excitedly.

Hermione frowned. "We most certainly are _not_." At Harry's hurt look, she continued. "We are _not_ going to risk getting caught."

Harry shook his head. "That's the best part! _Dumbledore_ told him to do it. We're just doing the Headmaster's bidding!"

Hermione blinked. "I have to study," she said.

Harry fixed her with an incredulous stare. "No, you don't." At her shocked look, he continued. "Hermione, you could have passed our final exams after the second week of school."

Hermione pursed her lips and gave Harry a frustrated look.

"And besides," Harry continued, "It sure would be a shame if something happened that Neville or me couldn't handle. Maybe, I don't know, some sort of _new magic_ or something." He gave Hermione a significant look.

The girl sighed and shook her head. "Fine, fine, I'll go."

Harry grinned. "I knew it! Meet me just outside the Hall at 8:30."

Hermione nodded resignedly.

Harry bounded off to the Slytherin table. "Ron!"

The redhead in question jumped. "Blimey, Harry. Don't _do_ that."

Seeing Ron surrounded by his group, Harry pulled him away from the table.

"Bloody hell, mate, what is it?" Ron griped.

"Tonight, Neville's going to patrol the third floor corridor, and we're going to help him!" Harry said excitedly.

"You mean the one that promises a very painful death?" Ron asked. At Harry's nod, he continued. "Sorry, mate you're on your own."

Harry frowned. "Oh come on, Hermione's going too. It'll be safe!"

Ron shook his head. "Not good enough. Besides," he looked back at his table, and whispered, "_Something's_ going down tonight."

Harry frowned. "This is more important than your little prank. _Dumbledore_ asked Neville to patrol."

Ron shrugged. "As great as he is, Dumbledore hasn't done _anything_ for us Slytherins in years. No, mate, you're on your own. Good luck, though!" Ron walked back to the table and sat down. "Harry!" he called over his shoulder, "Shouldn't you get down to the pitch?"

Cold shock swept through Harry. Well, it was fortunate that he had been exercising a lot.

* * *

A wheezing and coughing Harry stumbled into the Hufflepuff dressing not two minutes before his team walked out onto the pitch. Harry managed to ignore the irritated looks from his teammates and got changed in record time, but he was still breathing hard as they left the dressing room. The conditions were perfect for Quidditch, and there was hardly a breath of wind in the air. Harry glimpsed the Gryffindor team walking out of their dressing room, and sized up the opposing Chasers. They were all female and were laughing and joking with each other. One of them caught Harry looking at them, nudged one her friends, and pointed. When the two others looked, Harry smiled. The three girls immediately dissolved in laughter.

Captain and Wood shook hands and everyone kicked off into the air. Harry centered himself in the middle of the hoops and gripped his broom with both hands, in preparation for the game. He lowered himself over the broom handle to give himself more control over it, and he began taking deep breaths to steady his breathing. Across the pitch, Harry saw Wood also preparing, adjusting his gloves and taking in the formation of his enemies. The six Chasers were arrayed opposite each other. Harry had not learned the names of the formations, as they did not affect his position, but he _did_ learn the differences in their purposes.

There were formations for quick scoring, these focused on one person holding the Quaffle and simply blowing past the opposition. There were formations for confusion, these were designed to allow the Chaser to pass the Quaffle back and forth, until the opposition lost track of where the scarlet ball even was. Finally, there were purely defensive formations, aimed at simply stopping the opponent from scoring for as long as possible.

It was this last formation that the Hufflepuff Chasers took. Captain had drilled into their minds over and over again that the Gryffindor's Seeker had graduated the previous year and _that_ was their weak point. The scouting Captain had done showed the Gryffindor Seeker to be sub-par, normal for a first time player, and thus the Hufflepuff's strategy resided around stopping the opponents from scoring and hopefully winning by catching the Snitch before the discrepancy was too wide. Harry knew that the Chasers were limited in how much defense they could realistically provide and he was committed to being that final defense that his team needed.

With a sharp whistle blow, the final game of the year began. Emily was able to snatch the Quaffle away from one of the Gryffindor Chasers, but an expertly shot Bludger forced her to drop the ball almost right away, and an opposing Chaser snatched the ball right up. The girl shot forward, completely unharried by Tara, who seemed to still be confused that Emily did not have the Quaffle. Even Captain's quick moves were not enough to keep the Chaser from blazing towards Harry, her eyes set on putting the Quaffle away.

Harry's nerves threatened to spook him, but a couple deep breaths relaxed him again. Harry's eyes were peeled for any indication of where the shot was going, but the girl was as readable as blank, white stone. She moved forward faster than Harry had ever seen, and gave even less of a tell than Captain. Harry knew, in his head, that all he had to do was stop the Quaffle, but he was feeling more and more like he had no chance. The opposition was just _too _fast. Harry got his hands up in preparation for the shot, and he saw the hand the Quaffle was in begin to move. There! The Quaffle left her hand and Harry shot to block it.

It would be close. Harry stretched out his hand, the scarlet ball dominating all of his senses. His arm was fully outstretched, the ball mere centimeters from both the hoop and his fingertips. Harry felt a burst of frustration that his broom was so _slow_. _Just a bit...further..._

The Quaffle slipped past Harry and through the hoop.

Harry looked up at the Chaser in amazement.

The girl smirked. "Come on, Potter, impress me."

As Harry dove down to pick up the Quaffle, he realized that this game was going to be _hard_.

* * *

"I don't believe it, folks," called the commentator, "This is a right Keeper's duel, this is! At 40-20, Gryffindor, the score belies the amount of action we've seen today!"

_No kidding_, Harry thought to himself. Harry had lost count of his save percentage after a mere five minutes, due to the incredible amount of saves he had to attempt. He did not have even a vague idea of how many goals were attempted.

They had been playing for forty-five minutes, and Harry was _tired_.

Sweat was running down Harry's arms, his hair had been soaked long ago, and his breathing was labored. The hands fiercely gripping his broom were shaking, despite his tight grip. His eyes burned from the salty sweat pouring from his forehead. Harry's chest was heaving; never before had he exerted himself this hard. Even the longer practices, topped with the minor weight-lifting, had never even been _close _to this.

One of those _darn_ Chasers was flying back at Harry and he had to focus on saving yet another shot. For all that he was exhausted, Harry _had_ gotten a lot better at saving shots. There was something different about the Gryffindor Chasers, when Harry compared them to the Hufflepuffs, and that something made Harry _focus _a lot more than he had in practice. There was some undefinable aspect to their playing, some little difference that they had, and Harry was getting better and better at catching it.

The girl whipped forward and tossed the ball to Harry's left. Harry, a little confused, retrieved it with little trouble. The Quaffle smacked into Harry's arms, and Harry returned to the middle position.

"What was that?" he called out.

"What do you-" she took a deep breath, "What do you mean?"

Harry shrugged. "That shot was easy." He took a breath. "You're better than that."

The girl gave him a wearied glare before turning back and flying into her formation. Harry shrugged and tossed the Quaffle to Captain.

"Keep at it, Harry!" the older boy said, also breathing hard, "You're doing great!"

Harry gave Captain a thumbs up, not wanting to waste any more breath. Though he knew he was only supposed to focus on his position, Harry chanced a glance at Wood. The Gryffindor Keeper was sitting imperiously on his broom, surveying the pitch calmly and coolly. He did not even seem out of breath. Harry sighed heavily and eased the grip on his broom, and swore to himself that he would redouble his training after this match.

* * *

"Folks, this has been a match for the ages," said the commentator, his voice growing hoarse from all of the yelling he had done that say, "But it looks like Potter is tiring. He's failed to save the last four goals in a row and the fatigue is starting to show on his face."

Watch. Tense. Save! Toss.

"Well, there it is, ladies and gentlemen, he gets one!" The magical microphone rang out over the pitch. "Almost two hours in, we are, and Potter's still able to move!"

Watch. Watch. Tense. Watch. Tense. Watch. Fail. Dive. Toss.

"Ah, a close one there. It seems that Hufflepuff's Chasers are suffering similarly to their Keeper, they can't seem to hold on to the Quaffle for any length of time. Score's 150 – 40, Gryffindor. I can't rightly remember the last time we such a crazy match on our hands!"

Watch. Tense. Fail. Dive. Toss.

"160-40, Gryffindor, maybe we'll see the Snitch soon!"

Watch. Tense. Save! Toss. Watch. Tense. Watch. Tense. Watch. Tense. Fail. Dive. Toss. Watch Tense. Save! Toss. Watch. Tense. Fail. Dive. Toss. Watch. Tense. Watch. Save! Toss. Watch. Tense. Fail. Dive. Toss. Watch. Save! Toss. Watch. Tense. Fail. Dive. Toss. Watch. Confuse.

"I don't believe it, folks! That's the game! Cedric Diggory snatches the Snitch right out from under Linus Drilby's nose! The game's over, Gryffindor narrowly scraping by with a 200 – 190."

* * *

Ron thought over the time table again. At dinner, he'd slip the tie to his brothers. They'd leave early and perform the enchantments. McFornal would be accompanied by the Slytherin royal court back to the Common Room, after dinner. Ron would be waiting outside the Common Room. He'd say something about how McFornal is unworthy. McFornal would probably blow him off, then be unable to get into the Common Room. Ron would then casually go into the Room. Easy.

Ron was so absorbed in thought that he started when Abigail said his name in that quiet voice of hers.

"What is it, Abby?" Ron asked, giving the timid girl a smile.

"It's dinner," Abigail said, "Let's go!"

Ron nodded and gestured for the girl to go ahead of him.

* * *

Ron spied McFornal descending the last of the stairs and took a steadying breath. The bully walked up, and Ron stepped in front of him. "Going somewhere, McFornal?"

"To the Common Room, Weasel," sneered McFornal, "Back off unless you want to embarrass yourself even more."

Ron shrugged. "Go for it. As we all know, _real_ Slytherins can just go right in."

McFornal frowned. "What are you saying, Weasel?"

Ron smirked. "Oh, nothing."

McFornal glared intently at Ron for a second before pushing past and resting a hand on the door. "What?"

Ron laughed. "Can't get it open, McFornal?"

McFornal turned, eyes blazing. "What did you do, Weasel?"

Ron strutted forward. "Just proved that you're _unfit_ to be in our storied-" He put a hand on the doorknob, "House."

Something was wrong. The knob refused to turn. Ron pulled harder and harder on it, but the blasted thing just did not move.

McFornal placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron looked up into his face before being struck by a blindingly fast punch to his stomach. Ron collapsed onto the floor, and just managed to croak out, "No, it's all right, Lurtz," before his henchman would have bodily tackled McFornal.

"You..." Ron struggled to heave in a breath, "How?"

McFornal smirked. "Come on out, sweetie!"

Abigail emerged from the group of Slytherin royalty, holding a familiar green and silver tie. "S-sorry, Ron," the girl said.

"Never apologize for a correct choice!" said McFornal, grinning widely, clapping the girl on her shoulder.

Ron gaped. "Ab-Abigail?" His mind whizzed back, looking for _any_ indication that she would betray him. "H-how?"

McFornal grinned predatorilly. "She saw the winning side is all, Weasel." He rested a foot on Ron's shoulder and pushed him into the ground. "Hope that spell lets up by the morning, Weasel." With that, he turned and walked into the Common Room without a problem.

The rest of the group took several more moments to laugh and jeer at Ron before following McFornal into the Common Room. Several took the opportunity to kick, or even spit on, Ron. The abuse, however, _paled_ in comparison to the rage that was flowing through him.

Several moments in that year, Ron had experienced moments "never again." Moments that hurt Ron in some way that made him never want to feel that way again. The first time he had ever ridden a broom, he had fallen off. Failing a spell in front of Hermione.

This put them all to shame.

Revenge began flashing through Ron's mind. All of the things that Ron could do to get back at McFornal surged to the forefront. Light things, dark things, even ridiculous things that were completely unfeasible shot through his consciousness. Ron considered them all, lying there, all of the myriad things he would do the next year.

When Ron got up, he was a changed man. He was a man that would do anything to get ahead. Nothing would surprise him any more. Nothing would _ever_ take him unawares. He would never underestimate _anyone_.

The _world_ would be his.

A firm, serious look set on his face, Ron said, "I wonder where Harry is."

* * *

The mood in the Hufflepuff Common Room was complex. The Quidditch team were all being comforted and consoled by the other members of the House. The members, however, were rather more concerned with Captain McSaint. In the dressing room, after the game, Captain had not said a single word. They had all walked back to the castle in silence, arms were draped over various shoulders, a strange sort of feeling coalescing over the group.

Harry pried himself from his sympathetic companions, noticing that it was almost time to meet Hermione. His legs cried in protest as he stood up, but he forced himself through the pain.

"Where are you going, Harry?" asked Cedric.

"Taking a walk," Harry said.

"Want me to go with you?" Felicity asked, starting to rise, "Your first Quidditch loss is hard."

Harry motioned her back down. "No, no, it's all right. I just want to think."

Felicity sat back down, a look of soft concern on her face.

Harry made his way through the barrel, feeling a little guilty about lying to his House. He knew that it was for the best, that they would all want to come with him, and that was probably just not feasible. It still stung a little, though. Harry made his way through the empty castle, waving to various portraits, and trying to listen for Peeves.

"Harry!"

Harry turned towards Hermione's voice. "Yeah?"

"Where's your Invisibility Robe?" she whispered harshly.

Harry thought for a second. "Dumbledore told us to patrol, I didn't think we'd need it."

Hermione sighed. "Very well. Let's go."

They made their way up to the third floor, trying to walk quietly, and keeping their whispers soft. However, at the door they were looking for, they paused, breath catching in their throats. The scene that was laid out before them gave them huge pause. Neville was laying on the ground, unmoving, in an obviously unnatural position. Hermione immediately dropped down next to him and rolled him over onto his back. Harry let out the breath he had been holding when he saw Neville's chest move.

"What's this?" Ron asked, "Is he all right?"

Harry started. "When did you get here?"

Ron shrugged. "Just now. You _did_ say the third floor earlier, you know."

"I think he's all right," Hermione said, "I think he's just Stunned."

"Can you wake him up?" Harry asked.

"I can't remember it," Hermione said, her eyes closed in concentration, "Oh, I _just_ can't remember that spell!"

"Wh-what's that?" Ron asked, pointing through the door.

Harry glanced up. The door was cracked open, and Harry could see Fluffykins laying on the floor, its eyes open and glaring.

"Hagrid calls it Fluffykins," Harry said, unable to tear his eyes away from the beast, "I'm not _exactly_ sure why."

"Well, he's stable, certainly," Hermione said from the floor, "Oh, if _only_ I could remember the spell to wake him up."

"We have to go on." Harry's voice was firm.

"Mate?" Ron asked, looking worriedly, "We have to get Neville to the Hospital Wing."

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "We have to go in to that room. Some Dark wizard is after whatever Fluffykins is guarding."

Hermione frowned up at Harry. "And just _how _do you know that?"

"Someone tried to steal something from Gringotts the day I went to Diagon Alley," Harry explained, his face stony, "Only Hagrid got there first and brought it here. And only a Dark wizard would want to steal from Gringotts."

"Harry, mate, why would Dumbledore have something that a Dark wizard would want?" Ron asked.

"_Obviously_ to keep them from getting it, Ron." Hermione stood. "I hate to say it, but I think Harry's right."

Ron gave her a bemused look. "Is this what we get for being friends with the Boy Who Lived?"

"This is what you get for being _best_ friends with the Boy Who Lived," Harry answered, grinning brightly.

The trio squared themselves and walked into the room. Immediately, Harry could tell something was wrong. Fluffykins failed to immediately try to kill them upon entering the room, though it still fixed them with a baleful glare. Harry motioned to move slowly, and crept into the room. Fluffykins did not even move its head when Harry moved to the side to let Ron and Hermione in. The two who had not seen the monster were suitably amazed by its size and obvious ferocity, Ron even letting out a little whimper at it.

After a moment, Harry realized that he was not smelling the rank scent of Fluffykins' breath that he remembered from last time. He walked up to the monster and poked its nose, ignoring Ron and Hermione's hushed warnings.

There was no reaction.

"Fluffykins is dead," Harry said, his voice shaking. Another animal dead by this Dark wizard. By Merlin, Harry was going to have _words_ with this individual.

A silence hung in the air.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, after a minute or so, "We have to go."

"I..." Harry's voice trailed off. "Yeah." His voice became sure. "Let's go."

He turned and Ron and Hermione could see fresh tear tracks on his cheeks. Silently, the trio walked over to the trap door they had ignored initially and looked into it.

"_Lumos._" Harry's spell helped a little, but he still could not see the bottom.

Ron walked over to a shelf and pulled a book off of it. He dropped that down and, after a moment or two, they all heard a soft _flump_ as the book landed.

"That's good enough for me," Harry said, and jumped.

A muttered curse, and a scream, told him that Ron and Hermione followed soon after him. Harry just had time to note the strange feeling of falling when he landed on something soft. Identical _flumps_ landed near him.

Ron muttered a curse.

"What is it?" Harry asked, a bit loathe to move from the comfortable surface.

"Landed on the bloody book," Ron muttered, ignoring Hermione's soft chuckle.

"Right," said Harry, "We need to keep moving."

"But it's so comfortable," said Hermione, "Surely we can wait a bit, can't we?"

Harry pushed on the surface to sit up, but found that he could not summon the strength. "I can't really move."

"Why would you want to, mate?" Ron asked, and Harry could hear him lounge spread-eagled on the surface.

"We-" Harry paused. Why _did_ they have to move? This place was comfortable and there was even a nice vine massaging his legs. Harry sighed in contentment. Wait. Vine? "We're on a _plant_!" Harry yelled, panic overriding comfort.

"Keep your vines to yourself," Hermione yelled, "That was _rude_."

"What is this bloody thing?!" Ron demanded.

"_Virgultum_ _voluptatem,_" Hermione answered, "It makes the prey feel comfortable before it-"

"Yes, yes," Harry cut in, "How do we stop it?"

"Well," Hermione said nervously, "It's growing in the cold and dark, so it obviously doesn't like heat."

"So make fire!" Harry called out, wrestling with a vine around his torso.

"But we haven't any wood!" Hermione exclaimed tremulously.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD! ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?!" Ron roared.

"Oh, of course," Hermione was still able to sound disappointed in herself, "_Incendio!_"

The plant lit up almost immediately, and shrank from Ron and Harry, releasing all three children. They rolled off of the crisping bush, relieved to be away from the carnivorous plant.

"Right." Harry turned away from the roasting vegetation, and towards the door to the next room.

They stopped in front of it.

"Can you hear anything?" asked Ron.

"Tinkling sounds..." Hermione pushed her head closer to the door, "Maybe something with wings?"

Harry shrugged and pulled the door open. Inside were hundreds of fluttering _somethings_. The trio walked into the room, and Harry's breath was taken away at the beauty of the transfigured keys. So many different kinds, old and big, gleaming and small, and everything in between.

"So, we have to catch the right key?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "Seems that way."

Hermione smirked. "I have a better idea."

The boys looked at her expectantly.

"I've been _wanting_ to try this one." Hermione walked over to the door that lead to the next room. "I've only read about this one, I've never been able to try it before."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione turned around and Harry was taken aback by the look on her face. "Just stay back."

The girl raised her wand high over her head and brought it down forcefully with a flourish and and yelled, "_Confringo!_"

A sound like a cannon went off and suddenly there was a lot of dust surrounding Hermione. Harry and Ron immediately ran over to their friend. Hermione had been knocked back from the force of the spell, and she seemed a bit stunned. In front of her, there was a large pile of debris. When the dust cleared, Harry and Ron saw the door standing completely unaffected, but a large chunk of the wall next to the door had been blown away.

"See," Hermione breathed, "I figured the door would be protected, but the wall..." She trailed off.

"Right, bloody brilliant, Hermione," Ron murmured in an awed tone.

After a moment or three for Hermione to rest, the trio ventured into the next room.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

The room was shaped like a giant chessboard, complete with two sets of pieces on each side, and a door beyond the white pieces.

"Well, Ron," Harry turned to his friend, "Shall we?"

Ron chuckled darkly. "Harry, tap the king. Hermione, tap the bishop-"

"I want to be the queen." Hermione folded her arms.

Ron sputtered for a second. "Right, fine. You can be the queen."

Harry and Hermione went to their respective places.

"What will you be, Ron?" Harry asked.

"I'll be the rook!" Ron walked over to the rook closer to Harry and took its place. No sooner had he done this than an opposing white pawn slid forward two spaces.

Harry had no idea how to play chess, but it was clear even to him that Ron was a master. Every move the opponent made was countered, and Ron took about twice as many pieces as he gave. Harry quickly realized that Ron would not be using him, and he took to watching the other pieces and trying to think of what Ron would do next. Harry was always wrong.

"Oh, bloody hell."

"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked.

"I have to sacrifice one of us." Ron was staring intently at the board, his brow furrowed. "Me or Hermione." He looked at his friends. "Hermione, you know more spells than I do." He looked back out at the board. "Right."

"Wait, Ron!" Harry called. "What if it kills you?"

Ron shook his head. "I'd reckon it would only knock me out, to be collected later." He turned to Hermione. "Right, after I get taken, head over to take the enemy bishop, there."

Hermione nodded. "I will. Godspeed." She saluted.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, confused.

"It's a Muggle thing," Harry answered.

Ron slowly moved to his intended space. The enemy queen pounced. Ron fell and was immediately removed from the board. Hermione moved to take the bishop. With a loud clang, the white king threw his crown onto the board, and Harry could just hear the door opposite them click unlocked.

Hermione ran over to check on Ron. "He was right. He's only unconscious." She clenched her hands. "Oh if _only_ I remembered that spell."

Harry walked over. "It's all right. We'll get him on the way out."

Hermione nodded and rose. "Let's go, then."

The next room held only a troll corpse. Harry frowned at the dead body. While he was not as affected by this one as Fluffykins, or the unicorn, he still did _not_ like it. The smell getting to them, Harry and Hermione moved on rather quickly to the next room.

Huge, black flames sprang up across the room, though not before Harry saw the door. Inside the room was a table with seven bottles on it. When they looked back at the door they came through, there were purple flames blocking their way back. Harry and Hermione walked over to the table, and spied a small bit of paper.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine," Hermione read, looking over the bottles. She kept muttering the directions and pointing at certain bottles, sometimes looking at the note again, but then looking at the bottles. Harry marveled at her; _he'd_ certainly never be able to do that. Finally, Hermione approached him with a small, black bottle.

"Here." She handed it to him, an odd look in her eye.

"Thanks!" Harry grinned. "So, I just drink this and cross the fire?"

Hermione nodded. "That's right. There's not enough for me to go with you."

Harry looked at the bottle again. "All right." The odd look in Hermione's eyes seemed to be larger, somehow, than it had been. Her eyes seemed to shimmer.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. "Be careful, ok? I don't want to have to find another friend."

Harry pulled her close. "I will." He lifted a hand and began softly stroking her hair.

They stood like this for a moment or two, before Hermione pulled back, tears beginning to flow out of her eyes. "Remember what I taught you?"

Harry smiled. "_Snufflifors _and_ Supercorrio_."

Hermione gave a wet chuckle. "That's right."

Harry walked towards the black fire. When he felt its heat, he turned back to Hermione. "I'll always come back, Hermione. You're my friend!" With that, he turned to face the fire and downed the potion.

Harry was overcome by a strange, icy sensation, and hurried through the fire. It was an odd feeling, walking through fire, and Harry idly wondered if the potion would wear off before he was through it all. His worries were unfounded, however, and he opened the door on the other side of the fire with no issue.

The next room was simple: round and unadorned, except for a large mirror in the middle of it. There was a robed figure standing in front of the mirror, running his hands all over the smooth surface, and muttering.

"Hey!" Harry called. "We're going to have words!"

The figure turned and Harry recognized the Defense professor.

"And what words would we have, Mr. Potter?" asked the man, no trace of the stutter Harry remembered him having. "What could you possibly-"

"_Supercorrio_!" Harry yelled, waving his wand.

"Wha-" Quirrel managed before his rapidly constricting robes rendered him unable to speak. His wand clattered to the floor, and he quickly followed.

"Listen." Harry walked towards Quirrel. "I get that you want Dark things, but that does _not_ give you the right to kill innocent animals. Understand?"

"Y-you," gasped Quirrel, "N-not even me!"

Harry frowned. "What?"

"I'm n-not," Quirrel breathed, "You th-think!"

"I still don't know what you mean," Harry said.

Quirrel's eyes bugged and he suddenly stopped struggling. A strange black mist rose from Quirrel's body.

Harry frantically reversed the curse. "Quirrel! Are you all right?"

A voice echoed through the room. "You would show me mercy, Harry Potter?"

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, "I don't want to kill you!"

"I truly believe you," the voice rasped, "Though, of course, you cannot."

"You would have choked!" Harry said.

"But I am not Quirrel," the voice said, as the black mist shook slightly, "I am Lord Voldemort."

A silence hung in the air.

"The Lord Voldemort that killed my parents?" Harry asked.

"The very same!" the voice cackled.

"You should leave." Harry's voice was firm.

"Whatever for, dear boy? You cannot harm me!" The black mist began vibrating. "I am the all-powerful, immortal Lord Voldemort!" It stopped. "Though, perhaps you are correct. Fear not, Harry Potter, you shall see me again!" The black mist sped off, passing through a solid wall.

Harry sighed in relief. He had no idea how to deal with that black mist, and was just glad it was gone. He turned to go back through the door, but stopped when he realized that with no more potion, he could not. Harry turned back to the room and sat on the floor. He considered calling back to Hermione, but he still had the bottle so there was little she could do.

After ten minutes or so of Harry thinking over what he had seen this night, he heard a loud, "_Flamma Flunt_!" and Dumbledore charged into the room shortly after.

"Harry!" The old man rushed over to where Harry was sitting. "Are you all right?"

Harry nodded and stood. "Shall we go back?"

"You retrieved the Philosopher's Stone?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head and pointed to where Quirrel still lay. "I Crumpled his robes. Then this weird black mist floated out of him and told me it was Lord Voldemort. Then it flew off that way." Harry pointed at the wall. "I don't know anything about a Philosopher's Stone."

"Curious." Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him to the mirror in the. middle of the room. "The Philosopher's Stone is a most powerful object, Harry, surely you've heard of it."

Harry shook his head. "If it's what Fluffykins was guarding, I don't want anything to do with it, sir." Harry looked into the mirror. It did not show him standing next to Dumbledore, but rather him standing with his parents and his aunt and uncle. His whole family was alive and happy and they all loved him and they all loved each other.

"What do you see?" Dumbledore asked.

"My-my family," Harry said, wiping a tear away from his cheek.

"Very well, my boy," Dumbledore said quietly, "Let us return."

* * *

**AN: Well, there it is. The end of Harry the Hufflepuff.**


	16. Vignette 1: Daisy in Diagon

**AN: As I said in the Author's Note of my last chapter, there will be a sequel. As I implied in my description, this is/will be a rather long story. At least all seven years, along with some spin-offs. This is a story I'm passionate about and I don't plan on leaving it alone for more than a few months at a time. Regardless, thanks so much for all of you who've read the whole thing! It was a blast to write, and even more fun to read your feedback.**

**Anyway, welcome to the first of my little post-story vignettes. They're just little things that didn't fit into the plot for whatever reason. Enjoy!**

**Replies:**

**Chapters that Wowed Geetac: 1**

**ptl4ever419: Don't worry, I'll be addressing those things in the next books. :)**

**Gwendolyn McCormick: 4/5 of your points can be summed up with "Sequels." The last one, I'll cover in these vignettes.**

**Penny is wise: They don't have any reason to mistrust Fumbles yet. As far as they're concerned, he's just what he appears to be, the Leader of the Light, and everyone's favorite Headmaster.**

* * *

"Come _on_, Mister Hagrid!" Daisy was pulling him away.

"All right, all right," Hagrid said, letting the small girl pull him through the crowded streets.

Wizards were everywhere, and Daisy was in awe. So many things were passing on all sides of her that she couldn't come close to seeing all of what was there, and so many garish colors were everywhere that she didn't think her heart could stand it. Daisy _loved_ garish colors, the more obnoxious the better. Wizards, it seems, liked them even more.

Tearing her eyes off of a particularly _delightful_ combination of teal and fuchsia robes, Daisy noticed that Hagrid was walking into a store called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She hurried in after him, and was again bowled over in sheer delight over how _gross_ all of the colors were. Sure, there were the normal blacks that Hagrid was pointing at, but there so many other options that Daisy almost felt it a shame that Harry were not there to choose some for himself.

"Right, so," Hagrid was saying, having difficulty looking the much smaller figure in the eye, "I'll just need one standard Hogwarts set of robes."

"And what size will that be, Mr. Hagrid?" the woman asked, casting glance at Daisy.

"Oh, right," Hagrid said, "We need Harry for this."

"Oh, I know his size!" said Daisy, walking up to the woman, "He's my height, and his arms are this-" she gestured with her fingers, "much longer than mine!" After the woman looked at her for a moment, Daisy supplied, "I'm Daisy! Who are you?"

"Well, dear," the woman paused, "We'll see. Come on back and we'll see what we can do." As she led Daisy to the changing rooms, she said, "And I'm Madam Malkin."

"Oh, like the sign!" Daisy grinned. "I love your store. It's so whimsical."

Madam Malkin glanced back. "I'll have you know this establishment is an _industry standard_ for professionalism, young lady. _Whimsy_ does not enter the conversation."

Daisy was a bit stung. "But, but your colors are so-"

"Normal? Standard?" Madam Malkin stopped in front of a curtain, and indicated that Daisy should go in. "Definitive?"

"Sure," Daisy said, not wanting to upset the woman any more.

Madam Malkin gave a sharp, joyless smile and left Daisy alone.

"Wait!" Daisy called, "What am I supposed to-" but Madam Malkin was gone.

"Mother, are you _sure_ these robes are tight enough?" drawled a voice from behind a curtain next to Daisy's enclosure. "I do believe they can come in a touch more."

"Well, I'll go get Malkin," said the mother, "Wait here, dear."

"_Do_ hurry, Mother, I still have to get my books," came the voice again.

Daisy heard the quick footsteps of the mother walking by her curtain. After a moment, the boy called after, "Mother? Mother, are you there?"

Daisy heard a curtain swish and decided to make a new friend. "Hi!" she said brightly, as she pulled the curtain aside.

The boy standing in front of her could only be described as _ceramic_. He was as pale as several of her mother's whiter plates, his blond hair was slicked back and held there by who knew what, and his eyes joyless and cold. Daisy had seen toys with more expression than this boy.

"Oh. Hello." The boy's greeting was flat and dull. "I'm Draco Malfoy. What might your name be?"

"Daisy Dursley!" Daisy smiled valiantly, doing her best to salvage the conversation.

"Dursley?" Draco Malfoy repeated, scratching his chin, "Would you be related to the Greenwich Dursleys?"

Daisy thought for a second. "Maybe! My mother only has one sibling, but my father has something like eight or ten." She leaned in conspiratorially. "My grandfather had _two_ wives."

Rather than act shocked at this normally juicy piece of gossip, Draco shrugged. "Happens to the best of us, nothing to be ashamed of." After a second of looking around for his mother, Draco sighed and asked, "So, what House do you expect to be Sorted into? Imagine getting Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, don't you?" He looked at her, obviously expecting a laugh.

Daisy chuckled nervously. "Oh definitely. Hufflepuff sounds like a nightmare." She paused. "What do you mean 'Sorted'?"

"At Hogwarts, of course!" Draco exclaimed. "Surely that's why you're getting robes here."

"Oh, I'm here for my cousin," Daisy explained, "He's the one that's going to Hogwarts."

Draco adopted a condescending sneer. "Why's that? Your family couldn't afford to send _both_ children to Hogwarts."

"Oh no, I-" Daisy paused, "It's a secret." She glanced around furtively. "Can you keep a secret?"

Draco scoffed. "Of course. The Malfoys hold _many_ secrets." When Daisy didn't look impressed, Malfoy continued, "_Dark_ secrets."

Daisy shrugged. "Mine's not like_ that_." She leaned in close, remembering Hagrid telling her that Muggles shouldn't be in the Alley. "I can't use magic."

Draco's mouth dropped open and he blanched. "What?"

"I'm here because my cousin can use magic. He's off getting his wand, and me and Mr. Hagrid are getting the rest of his things."

Draco's eyes were wide and he was shaking. "A M-M-Muggle? I was conversing with a Mugg-"

Daisy frowned.

Draco looked at his hands. "Worse than a Mudblood." He looked up at Daisy with hate in his eyes. "You have made me unclean!"

"Well that's not very nice," pouted Daisy, "You should apologize."

Draco cackled insanely. "Me?! Apologize to a Muggle?!" He drew his wand and aimed it at Daisy. "Such disrespect _must_ be answered!"

"Ooh!" Daisy forgot about being insulted and reached forward, taking Malfoy's wand. "Is this a wand? It's pretty!"

What little color still resided in Malfoy's face drained. "My father will hear about this, you, you creature!"

As he stormed past her, Daisy held out the wand to give it back. Malfoy took the wand gingerly, holding it as though it may contaminate him, and swept off, loudly abusing Daisy and all of her "dirty, filthy kind."

After a moment, Madam Malkin walked back, face red, and forcibly ejected Daisy and Hagrid from the store, not letting them buy robes. Hagrid took Daisy to a _wonderful_ ice cream store. While she dove into a truly massive bowl, magicked to taste different in every bite, Hagrid awkwardly explained what Malfoy had said. Daisy, despite being distracted by the _delicious_ ice cream, found herself becoming more and more angry at how she had been treated.

"See," Hagrid said, "You gotta remember that not all wizards are like them Malfoys."

"You're not." Daisy said.

"Right!" Hagrid smiled. "And any who met ya would be the same as me." He frowned. "The Malfoys simply be-" He leaned in and whispered, "_Backwards._"

Daisy nodded, though the things Malfoy had said still hurt. What did it matter that she couldn't use magic? She was still a human being. "Probably more human than those _Malfoys_." She muttered, bitter.

"Ah, ah, ah." Hagrid waved a reproving finger. "Be careful now, missy, if you start thinking like that, you're no better than the Malfoys themselves."

Daisy frowned. "But we can't just let them be _right_, can we?"

Hagrid smiled benevolently. "No, we can't. We fight them where we can, as hard as we can. Just remember, you're a human being. They are, as well, no matter what they believe." He leaned forward. "But that doesn't mean we can't hate him." He winked.

Daisy felt better. "Ok, Mr. Hagrid. Thanks!" She took the last bite of her ice cream, a creamy vanilla bean, and the two of them left to get the rest of Harry's supplies.

"Mr. Hagrid?"

"Aye?"

"Where are we getting Harry's robes?"

"Blast."

* * *

**AN: Ayy, there it is. Next up is Neville vs The Troll!**


	17. Vignette 2: Neville vs The Troll

**AN: Oh man, I really need speed through these things, don't I? So far, I have 2 more planned after this one. If you have a scene that you didn't see in "canon" and you want to see as a vignette, review/pm and let me know! Also, this is a bit more violent than normal, let me know if you think I should change my story rating. Thanks! :)**

**Racethom: Yeah, these are all just quick little stories, vignettes from the year. :)**

* * *

Neville managed to hold in the tears until after Madam Hooch dismissed the class, and he was away from prying, no doubt malevolent, eyes. Neville had grown up knowing just how much of a failure and disappointment he was, and why he had expected Hogwarts to be anything different was anyone's guess. Ever since losing his toad on the train, Neville had just been punted from one painful thing to another. His Housemates ignored him, his teachers were inevitably disappointed when he was unable to make his father's wand cast adequately, and Draco Malfoy was quite busy making his life as torturous as possible.

It was all of these things that caused Neville to run out of Flying Class, after Harry Potter had needed to save him, and towards the bathroom where, hopefully, he could be alone in his misery. The class had ended right before dinner; an added boon in that Neville could be assured at least an hour or so of privacy. Neville chose the underused bathroom nearer the dungeon mostly because it would allow even more time alone, something Neville could not achieve in his dorm, given his proximity to his Housemates.

Neville was breathing heavily when he finally reached his destination, due no doubt to his oft-criticized blubbery physique, and pulled the door open. The tears he had shed immediately upon leaving the class had dried, but no sooner had Neville shut the stall door than he immediately dissolved again into tears, the sobs wracking him harder than they did before. The sound echoed around the bathroom, not loud enough to be obnoxious, but enough to remind him of his woe.

Neville was thus distracted when the first thundering boom shook the walls of his refuge. His shock dried his tears. Neville pressed his ear to the stall door, straining to hear what was coming for him. Another boom shook the bathroom, and Neville thought he could hear a voice yelling and cursing. Neville hesitantly opened his stall and crept over to the bathroom door.

All thoughts of self-pity were gone, replaced by an inexplicable urgency, pushing Neville to act. It no longer mattered that Malfoy had jeered at him, that Potter had been forced to save him, or that the rest of his House thought him useless. He was in danger, and had to escape.

Neville cracked the door to peer outside, into the hallway. A massive, ten foot, troll was standing on the landing leading into the dungeons, and peered curiously at Neville. The stunned boy gaped for a few moments before scrambling back into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. After a few more curses from outside, Neville heard the sounds of someone, significantly smaller than the troll, running away. A few moments of quiet gave him a false sense of security before the troll ripped open the door to the bathroom and came lumbering in.

Neville backed away slowly from the huge creature, his mind equal parts panicking and thinking of ways out of this situation. He remembered from Professor Quirrel's lessons that trolls were exceptionally strong, resilient, and stupid. Neville was not quite sure how to use these to his advantage, but the thing had weaknesses and Neville could exploit them, if he only could figure it out.

That was it, though. Neville was useless. Everyone knew it. He was completely incompetent and unable to perform even the simplest of actions. The troll was going to kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Neville closed his eyes and braced himself for the killing blow.

With the world going black as his eyes closed, Neville idly wondered if this was how death was going to look. As he stared into the black depths of his closed eyelids, Neville's thoughts drifted to his parents. While he was personally unfamiliar with who they had been, his gran had often told him about them, especially when Neville had earned her displeasure. She always talked about his dad, less so about his mom, and she never said anything bad. Neville's father had been the bravest of men, even taking on multiple foes at a time, casting himself forward to protect those he held dear. Neville had long since given up on being like his father, even his keepsake wand refused to recognize him like that, but in his heart of hearts, Neville still clung to the image of himself as a hero. It had been that aspiration that prompted the Sorting Hat to place Neville in Gryffindor, despite his pleading.

As Neville was thinking this, an odd thought floated up in his mind. _What if I survive this?_ Neville pondered that. He had no way to survive this. Nothing he could do would save him. _But what if I could? Would I want to?_ Neville again pondered the odd thought. Of _course_ he wanted to live. Living was what people were supposed to do. _Is that it? Is that all I want?_ Neville was becoming a little annoyed at these thoughts. Living is... Living is... Neville couldn't think what he wanted to say there. Why _did_ he want to live? If he lived, he could get better, more useful. Maybe. If he died here, that would not happen. But if he lived, that _could _happen.

A strange bright light flashed in front of Neville. He felt an odd burning in the back of his mind. Neville opened his eyes and saw the Sorting Hat hovering in the air, held aloft by what could only be a phoenix. Neville and the troll saw this at the same time. They both reached out, the troll obviously wanting an easy meal, and Neville wanting to save a unique magical artifact. The Hat was directly in between them, halfway from Neville to the troll. It would be tough to reach the Hat before the troll's long arms grabbed it, but Neville felt that burning in his mind pushing him on.

He was a few scant inches ahead of the beast, and the thing's momentum knocked Neville flying, though he managed to keep hold of the Hat. There was another flash of fire, and when Neville looked up, the phoenix was gone. He looked at the Hat in his hands and, unable to think of anything else to do with it, placed it on his head.

_Hmmm, a spot of bother, eh?_

Neville nodded, a little fear flowing into his head.

_Now, now, none of that, lad!_

Neville frowned, looking up at the creature more than thrice his size.

_Yes, I also perceive the danger such a creature poses. Now, how shall we get out of this predicament_?

Neville imagined something crashing down onto the troll's head. Its own club, for instance. Its own giant, spiky, wooden death club.

_Perhaps. I think I have a better idea, though._

There was a loud _thunk_ and Neville felt a sharp pain on the top of his head. He took the Hat off to rub the sore spot, but his fingers encountered a hard, metallic surface instead of hair. He gripped the thing and was soon staring at a gleaming silver sword with rubies encrusted into the hilt. As soon as he was gripping it, Neville felt a strange, yet comforting, warmth spreading through his fingers and throughout his body. He felt his hair ruffling in some unseen breeze and his eyes widened at the unexpected sensations. He felt accepted, somehow, by the sword, and it was first time Neville had felt anything like that. It felt supremely nice.

The troll let out a disappointed bellow and Neville was snapped out of his thoughts. The ugly beast hefted its club and turned towards Neville, who instinctively held his sword up at the ready. The troll began lumbering over and Neville, with a grace he'd never had before, began circling opposite the troll, preparing his first strike. The troll used its momentum to heft the massive club over its head and brought it smashing down, right where Neville had been moments before. The small boy, somehow completely calm, smoothly dodged out of the way of the massive death stick. He brought up the sword and swiftly sliced down at the troll's arm. The blade cut through the skin and bit deep into the brute, blood spurting up and drenching Neville's sleeves.

The troll let out a huge, pained bellow and whipped its club at Neville, using both arms to supplement its swing. Neville ducked and, perhaps because the troll usually fought much larger opponents, the club whistled over his head, crashing into the wall of a stall. Shards and bits of wood were sent flying across the lavatory, but Neville's eyes narrowed, focused on his enemy. His sword shot forward and dug into the troll's leathery knee, before Neville whirled in a circle and yanked the still-gleaming blade out, sending blood splashing onto the walls and floor.

With a betrayed bray, the troll dropped to one knee, that leg unable to support its weight. The club was again hefted into the air and brought down towards Neville's head. The swing was weak, however, allowing Neville to simply lift the sword and block it, the blade cutting into the wood several inches. Taking advantage of this position, Neville tried to pull the club out of its owner's hands, but only succeeded in tearing a chunk out of the wooden club. Another swing cut a gash into the troll's bulging belly, causing the beast to drop its weapon and hold its bleeding torso. A final downward swing finished the job, with the unfortunate consequence of leaving Neville completely drenched in his foe's blood.

Victory howling in his veins, Neville still held the sword in a ready stance, in case the fight was not over. A moment or two of silence later, however, had Neville lowering his weapon and relaxing his posture.

He had _done_ it. He was _not_ useless. He could be _powerful_.

Neville Longbottom started crying.


	18. Vignette 3: Daisy and Ginny

**AN: Only 1 more after this, and then on to book 2! Woooo!**

* * *

The Burrow was by _far_ the coolest place Daisy had ever been to. The pathway to the _awesomely _crooked house was surrounded by neck-high grass that waved and swayed despite the lack of wind. Daisy bounded up the path, periodically turning back to urge her parents on faster and faster, in order to get to the awesome house more quickly.

The house itself sort of looked like an upside down boot. There was no way the thing would stand up straight without magic. It was _so_ cool. Each floor stuck out at odd, impossible angles and even had sections just hanging out over the ground. The house was made out of some brown, wood-like substance, though since the house was magic, it definitely _wasn't_ wood, and seemed leathery somehow.

The doorbell rang out like a particularly shrill version of someone shouting "Hello!" and "I'm home!" at the same time. Not two seconds after the bell sounded, however, the door opened and Mrs. Weasely, with Ginny holding on to her apron, appeared.

"Heavens! I about forgot what that old thing sounded like!" Mrs. Weasely placed a steadying hand on her chest. "Next time, you don't need to ring the bell. We'll know when you get here."

"How do-" Mr. Dursley's question stopped short when he remembered that he was talking to a witch. "Ah, magic."

Mrs. Weasely nodded happily and gestured her guests inside.

The inside was truly chaotic. There were _tons_ of things just _happening_ everywhere. Various objects just _doing things_ everywhere. Pillows were fluffing themselves, floors were dusting themselves, and even windows were cleaning themselves. Ginny, however, was quick to show Daisy a clock. This clock, however, was no ordinary clock. No,this clock had eight hands and a totally _wonderful_ function.

"See, our names are all on hands," Ginny said, pointing, "And they all point to what we're doing, or where we are."

"So, your hand is pointing at...home?" Daisy asked, also pointing.

Ginny nodded. "Mhmm! This is a Prewitt artefact that Mum got from Grandmum. It passes on to the daughter with the biggest family." She looked at Daisy and grinned. "And that's us!"

Daisy nodded, the smile that appeared when she saw the house widening, "Definitely. Eight people?" She asked, counting the hands.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, Mum's not on there, since it's hers, but everyone else is."

After a few more minutes of staring at the clock, Mrs. Weasely reminded Ginny that Daisy had never been to the Burrow before and that she might like a tour of the house. Ginny had immediately snatched up Daisy's hand and pulled her into the kitchen to show her all of the _self-cleaning_ pans and the table that always had enough room for everyone.

"The next two floors are just bed and bathrooms, and the ghoul in the attic makes it smell bad up there, so let's go outside!" Ginny said, beginning to lead Daisy outside.

"Wait, what's in the attic?!" Daisy asked, trying to slow the younger girl down.

"Huh? The ghoul?" Ginny shrugged. "It's nothing special. Just a ghoul."

"A ghoul?!" Daisy shrieked, "Isn't it terrifying?"

Ginny frowned in confusion. "No, it just sort of stinks and moans. Pretty boring, actually."

Daisy's eyes lit up. "Let's scare it!"

The confusion stayed in Ginny's eyes for a moment before dissipating. An amused, intrigued look soon replaced it. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

A month or two later found Daisy staring avidly staring at the fireplace.

"You know they're not due for another ten minutes, right, sweetie?" Petunia Dursley asked from the kitchen.

Daisy nodded. "I wanna see how they do it."

Vernon Dursley shifted his newspaper to the side, to look at his daughter. "You could do that from the couch, couldn't you?"

Daisy, from her kneeling position, shrugged.

Ten minutes inched past, a dull ache beginning to well up in Daisy's knees, and sweat beading on her brow. It turned out that she needn't have even bothered. At 4:30, precisely, a large, green fire suddenly exploded into the fireplace and three figures were flung out. The two older Weaselys managed to land on their feet, but Ginny couldn't quite keep her balance and landed on her bum. Managing to hold in her laughter, Daisy helped her friend up and immediately started showing Ginny around.

Ginny was fascinated with everything. Well, everything that used electricity, that is. She spent several tens of minutes cooing over all of the appliances in the kitchen, and a solid five minutes amazed with the flush option. After all of the viewing of Muggle things in the Dursley house, and spending some time in the backyard with their parents, Daisy and Ginny found themselves in the attic.

"Ughh," groaned Ginny, "Why don't they move?!"

"I told you," Daisy said, rolling her eyes, "Muggle pictures don't move. We have other things that do that."

"Can we look at those things instead?" Ginny asked, leaning back onto her arms, "I'm kinda bored up here."

Daisy copied her and sighed. "Well, I'm _sorry _we Muggles are so boring."

Ginny smirked. "Yeah, at my place, you'd be able to do all sorts of things!"

Daisy shook her head and sat forward again, rummaging around in an as yet unopened box. "Next time we will. Hang on," she pulled a picture out of the box, "What's this?"

Ginny excitedly crawled over and also looked at the picture. It was obviously old, black and white, and it depicted two young girls running around a playground, being chased by a boy their age dressed in clothes at least a generation too old. Glee and laughter shone brightly in all three children's faces. After a moment or two of looking at the photo, Daisy snapped her fingers and pointed at one of the two girls. "That's mum!"

Ginny frowned. "No, can't be! Your mum is so..." She trailed off. "Older."

Daisy chuckled. "She was a kid once, apparently." She got to her feet. "Let's show her!" The two girls ran down the stairs and into the living room where both sets of parents were sitting and talking.

"Mum! Mum!" Daisy ran over and thrust the picture into her mother's hands, "We found this!"

"Oh? What's this, then?" asked Petunia as she held the picture up to her eyes.

Ginny, meanwhile, jumped onto the couch in between her parents. "Muggle pictures _don't move_!" she whispered excitedly to her father, whose eyes bugged a little.

After a moment or two of Petunia looking at the photograph, her hands began to shake a little. "Daisy, where-" she took a breath, "Where did you find this?"

"In the attic!" Daisy said, grinning brightly, "In some old box!"

"Dear, are you all right?" asked Vernon, after seeing the pallor of his wife's face.

"I'll – I'm," Petunia stammered, "I'll be right back." She stood and began walking briskly towards the Dursley's bathroom.

The Weaselys didn't stay too much longer after that, what with dinner approaching and all, and before too long, Daisy was hugging Ginny tightly in goodbye. There were many mutual promises to see one another again, before too long, though all without Petunia present. Vernon graciously accepted the Weaselys' wishes of wellness, and promised that his wife would be just fine after a good night's sleep.

* * *

Later, when Daisy had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, she heard some strange choking sound coming from the downstairs. When she went to look, she found her mother sitting at the table, looking at the photo. There was a bottle of something Daisy wasn't allowed to drink on the table as well, next to a glass that Petunia was currently holding. Daisy then heard the choking sound again and saw that her mother was crying. Daisy began to go to her, when she heard her mother whisper something.

"I'm sorry, Lils," Petunia was saying, looking at the photo, "I'm so sorry."


	19. Vignette 4: Nicholas Flamel

**AN: Last vignette! This was basically just born out of some fun head-canon with my Beta. Probably won't affect the story too much. OR WILL IT?!**

* * *

Nicholas Flamel looked at himself in the mirror, and compared the image to the cover of the Muggle magazine taped to the reflective surface. The muggle man depicted thereon was standing in some sort of uncomfortable standing pose wearing what the article called a "three-piece suit." Flamel been trying for over a fortnight to achieve proficiency in this muggle fashion device. His "tie" was properly knotted, his "vest" was appropriately snug against his torso, and his "blazer" was nicely fitted to his form. On top of all that, Flamel had combed his long, white hair into a ponytail, tied with a small "elastic" ring. He had trimmed his previously belt-length beard to a more respectable mere coating of hair, as demonstrated by that muggle on the cover of the magazine.

Just as Flamel had donned his "wrist-watch," his wife, Perenelle, called out to him from the living room, "Dear? That Alby boy is here. Looks like he wants to ask you something important."

"Oh? Thanks, honey! I'll be right out." Flamel gave a final tug to his "tie" and strode out of his dressing room and into the Main Hallway of his Parisian home. The Hallway was one of the more elegant pieces of magic in his home. You stood on the floor and it simply took you to the door you needed. Flamel felt the customary burst of pride as he stepped onto his Hallway. He'd bet the muggles had yet to figure _this_ out yet!

A quick wave of his wand created an illusion of the old, _old_ man that Alby would know him as. As he neared the door to the foyer of the house, Flamel shouted out to Perenelle, "Prepare the Trophy Room, would you honey? I'll see him there."

"Ok, dear, I will!" came the lovely, lilting voice, "Be careful, he seemed...devious."

The Hallway paused. "More so than normal?"

"Oh yes," Perenelle said, "He's a doozy, that one."

Flamel continued the Hallway, chuckling to himself that Alby should have been in Slytherin, rather than Gryffindor. Flamel had, of course, been in Slytherin, as all great wizards were, but it wouldn't do for Alby to know that. He was so much more agreeable with alumni from his old House.

The Flamel foyer had undergone truly massive changes recently, as Nicholas began expecting a higher and higher concentration of muggle guests. As Flamel walked through the door at the end of the Hallway, a flick of his wand was met with a small _pop_ and the comfortable sitting room shifted into a proper Pureblood foyer. Portraits, far fewer than would be expected, adorned the walls and several spinning and shimmering baubles were placed on tables and chairs around the room. It caused Flamel no small amount of joy that Alby had not yet figured out what the purpose of the baubles was: merely to frustrate visiting mages and imply a higher level of magical mastery.

Flamel's feet padded across the thick, purple carpet, and a slow grin appeared on his face. He would be just in time. After positioning himself in the middle of the room, Flamel flicked his wand and opened the door to the rather hilarious sight of Albus Dumbledore about to raise his fist to knock on the door.

"Alby!" Flamel's old and wavery voice cracked as he called out his greeting, "What a joyous meeting!"

Dumbledore, as always, looked unnerved for a mere second before a jovial smile stretched across his face. "Master Flamel! I really thought I had you that time!"

A soft, wispy chuckle drifted out of Flamel's wrinkled throat. "You're still several light years from that, my boy."

"How long is a light year?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head.

"Light years measure distance, not time!" Flamel lifted a lightly shaking hand and gestured Dumbledore inside. "Please, my boy, come inside! We shall speak in the Trophy Room."

With that, Flamel turned and began to hobble through his foyer, back towards the Hallway. He heard Dumbledore stride into his home, with all the arrogance and impatience expected of such a youth. Dumbledore had first met Flamel, oh, what was it – eighty? Ninety years ago? – when Dumbledore had been adamant about dragon's blood, and it's uses in alchemy. Flamel had accepted the youth as a disciple and together they had figured out thirteen different uses of dragon's blood. Dumbledore, adorably aghast at what implications the thirteenth held, had _insisted_ on only publishing the more mundane initial twelve. Flamel, meanwhile, had immediately taken the knowledge to a well-known Serbian inventor living in America at the time. The man had been happy to drink the potion, "for science!", and the effects were just as Flamel and Dumbledore had theorized. The last that Flamel heard of The Serbian, however, the man had become increasingly detached from reality, absorbed with forcing his newfound powers to abide by the very laws they undermined.

A short trip through the Hallway had Flamel and Dumbledore standing outside of the Trophy Room. Flamel sent a wavering, blue-veined hand towards the handle, chuckling to himself softly when he heard the sigh from behind. The handle turned and Flamel doddered into the lushly carpeted, well upholstered room. He heard Dumbledore give a soft gasp as he walked in. The Trophy Room was, indeed, a spectacle; particularly for one as knowledgeable as Dumbledore. The walls were _covered_ in relics and legendary lost items from the annals of history. Everything from Excalibur itself to the malevolent spirit that caused the Bermuda Triangle was housed in this room. There was enough magical energy here to entirely annihilate the Continent, Asia, most of Africa, not to mention all of the matter within the oceans. Dumbledore was right to gasp.

"A-amazing..." Dumbledore muttered.

"I thought you'd like, Alby," quavered Flamel's old voice, "This is my life's work." Lying to great liars was always one of Flamel's favorite things. "Here you see the fruits of my incredibly long life."

With an obvious effort, Dumbledore tore his eyes away from the trove. "Yes, well, that's actually what I am here to see you about."

Flamel tottered over to a rich, scarlet armchair, and climbed into it. "Yes, yes, Alby, but tea first!" He clapped softly. "Perenelle! Tea, if you don't mind!"

A voice rife with laughter answered, "Of course!" Perenelle appeared in the middle of the room, alighting into the room as if from a horse, a full tea service in her hand. "Here you are, dear." Flamel held his chuckle in with difficulty. Perenelle had manifested as a woman still in her fifties, attractively slim, and resplendent in a soft, silver gown. Her soft, white hair trailed down to her mid-back.

"Thank you, dear," Flamel said, covering Dumbledore's silent astonishment. He flicked his wand and a rich, mahogany table burst into existence. Perenelle placed the tray down, favored Flamel's cheek with a kiss, and was gone. "You know, dear," said Flamel, "It's rather rude to intentionally unsettle our guests."

"Not a problem, I assure you," Dumbledore said, desperately trying to regain his composure. He took a cup of tea and sipped it. "Delicious, Master Flamel, absolutely delicious!"

Flamel reached to the tray and lifted a lid off of a ceramic bowl. "Lemon drop?"

Dumbledore nodded enthusiastically, taking three.

When each had sipped approximately half a cup of tea, Flamel allowed Dumbledore to get to the point.

"Well, the thing is," Dumbledore said, sitting forward in his chair, "My informants tell me that your Stone is in danger."

"Isn't it always?" asked Falmel, shaking his head slowly.

"I am told it's a rather...formidable foe seeking it this time." Dumbledore steepled his long fingers. "I was hoping-"

"Voldemort?" Flamel cut in, his eyes narrowing shrewdly.

Dumbledore quickly recovered from his gaped mouth. "Yes, or so my informants are saying. how could you...?" He trailed off significantly.

Flamel chuckled, his eyes merry once more. "No other foe has ever had you so...antsy. Not even the archfiend Grindelwald." Flamel sat forward as well, and adjusted the glasses that were slipping down his nose. "What makes you think my security is...lacking?"

Dumbledore sputtered, "N-no! Th-that's not what I meant! Merely that, given your incredible age, you might want to...pass on that responsibility." Dumbledore affected an air of indifference, but Flamel could sense his anticipation. "I, for example, would be happy to take the Stone off your hands."

Flamel raised a dry eyebrow. "For safekeeping?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course."

Now, Flamel knew that Dumbledore was lying. That much was clear. The young man had been after the secrets of his Stone since the beginning. Flamel assumed that some of the story, most likely the part about Voldemort, was partially true. The only question, then, was why Dumbledore wanted the stone _now._ Voldemort had been powerful before, far more powerful, no doubt, than he was now, yet Dumbledore had remained silent. Why, then, did little ol' Alby want the Stone _now_? The answer clicked after a moment. _He wants to copy, then destroy the stone_. Of course.

Briefly, Flamel considered giving Alby the actual Stone, secure in the knowledge that he could take it back at his whim, but that would require far more attention to Hogwarts than Flamel wanted to pay. The only solution was, therefore, to give Dumbledore a fake. A convincing fake, of course, but a fake nonetheless.

Thus decided, Flamel cast a simple Time Freezing Charm, the world going black, as always. Flamel spent the equivalent of three hours creating a passable fake Stone, before canceling the Charm and handing the "Stone" to Dumbledore. "Here you are, my son."

Dumbledore squeezed the "Stone" and a spurt of crystalline liquid spurted out. Flamel caught the liquid and sipped it. "The Elixer, and..." Dumbledore tapped the "Stone" against the table, while Flamel silently casted a transfiguration, "The gold."

Dumbledore nodded and pocketed the "Stone" in his pocket. "I'll have it back after the school year. The danger should have passed by then."

Flamel nodded and a shaking hand waved Dumbledore out of the room. "For obvious reasons, this room is warded, but the Hallways is not. Goodbye, Alby!"

Dumbledore rose, bowed, and left. The closed door to the Trophy Room did not muffle the _crack_ of Dumbledore's Apparition, and Flamel rose out of his chair. A swift snap of his fingers had him dressed as he was before Dumbledore's visit. Perenelle appeared as before, from nothing, and straightened his "tie."

"Good luck today!" She said before vanishing.

Flamel shook his head in bewildered amusement. He knew it was high time he left. It just wouldn't do to be late to the first day at CERN.

* * *

**AN: Alright, this is the last chapter of Harry the Hufflepuff. I'll continue, when I can, with Hermione the Ravenclaw. Let me know what you think!**


	20. New Story!

Hey everyone, I posted the first chapter of Hermione the Ravenclaw here: /s/11617409/1/Hermione-the-Ravenclaw

Check it out, and follow that one for more updates. As of now, I won't be posting on this story anymore. Thanks again to you all for this journey you've supported me on!


End file.
